


Elves last longer than humans

by Himitsukin



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Biting, F/M, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Romance, Sexual Content, supernatural skill
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-03-11 21:39:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 35,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3333806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Himitsukin/pseuds/Himitsukin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A lost human found in Mirkwood. So it seems. For Mithrandir, Thranduil agreed to take care of her. She has no memory, a peculiar temper, and she intrigues him. <br/>Shared moments will bring questions, anger, sometimes answers, pleasure and fate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wish english was my native language ! So I apologize for my mistakes in writing this.  
> Don't hesitate to comment or correct if you want to, you'll be welcome.

 

The great Elf was looking pensively at the human nearby.

For days now, he observed her, meeting her from time to time, sometimes a few minutes, sometimes more, waiting for her to tell him about the why and how his guards had found her alone, in the very heart of Mirkwood. She didn’t seem to have suffered from hunger or thirst, and she had nothing more to say than “I walked, I got lost, I can’t remember”, which was non-sense. No one could come so deep in the forest without being harmed, even less noticed. Magic could explain her presence, but she didn’t look like having any talent in magic. So, she must be lying, hiding something, or being mad.

If it wasn’t for Mithrandir who had been there when she was found, he would have let the guards throw her in jail, and would have forgotten her already. But the old man had asked him, as a favour, to learn more about her, to treat her like a guest, before leaving him for one of his strange and lonely quests.

He sighed. Mithrandir was always so persuasive but unclear about his purposes. But he had agreed. And now, he was with her, once more, waiting for something to happen.

 

Of course he didn’t need to manage this personally but…she was intriguing him, in a way. Moving like a cat wanting to touch someone but keeping its distance, staring at him darkly, asking silly questions about everything around her, then silent for hours, both shy and self-assured, her temper swinging from detachment to curiosity, she had a peculiar nature of her own. She didn’t seem very rational, he had to admit, but nonetheless something in her was…interesting.

Although none of the herbal medicines his healers had given her to free her tongue was efficient, they had told him she could recover her mind anytime. But he began to think her memory was really damaged, for even her name was still a mystery.

 

Now, alone with her in one of his rooms, he was sitting still in his armchair, his eyes sharp as steel on her. He had stopped to ask questions for now, and drank his glass of wine in a cold silence. She had had nothing more to tell him, except the same nonsense she had the previous days, but he had guessed something else in her agitation today. Something she refused to talk about, despite his insistence.

So, he now was waiting, annoyed, observing this strange but nice human, both guest and prisoner, who was defying him silently.

Actually, still agitated and nervous, she sipped at her glass, observing him with this dark stubborn look of her, and seemed to think about what to do.

His light grey eyes looked over her tousled short golden hair, once more. So short he wanted to touch them to know how it feels under his fingers. But he couldn’t, of course. A Lord Elf didn’t touch whatever he was curious of: he stayed still and cold, far from everything, absorbed in his thoughts, unattainable.

 

Then it happened.

 

She got up, her face determined, and came to him without haste, not looking at him directly, but nonetheless focused on him. When she stopped in front of him, her look fixed on his, and they stared at each other silently. He waited. She slowly moved toward him, very slowly, leant on his armchair to get closer, and stopped a few inches away from his face. He stiffened, uneasy to have her in his personal space, but didn’t move back, for she couldn’t be of any harm to him. Then she approached closer and kissed his lips softly, and his heart missed a beat, although his grey eyes didn’t flicker at all.

It lasted for long seconds, amazing and mesmerizing him totally, unable to react to this kiss. Then, she moved back just a little, still looking at him, and kissed him again, caressing his mouth with her tongue, very slowly. He felt his lips opened to her tongue despite his will, without knowing if he could breathe again, deafened by his own loud heartbeats. How did she dare doing such a thing?!

The kiss ended, she moved back, slowly breathed and waited, very still. He didn’t move either and stared at her coldly, but her eyes didn’t flinch. She defied him with half a smile.

No one had ever done a thing like that to him since eons, and to his own surprise, he was confused and somehow delighted, the blood pounding in his head. He could feel her so close, so tense, so alive, her short breath sweet and warm on his skin, her dilated pupils fixed on him, an insolent smile on her lips, these lips one instant earlier kissing him. She had suddenly broken his wall of indifference. And he was puzzled.

Time went by. Slowly.

Then he grasped her neck swiftly, squeezed a little as he stared at her – her eyes widened – then got into her mouth with an imperious tongue, kissing her fiercely, almost violently.

She answered to his kiss with the same savage and hungry mouth, her hands still gripped on the armchair, and she slipped her legs between his to come closer.

They kissed for a long time, tongue sliding to tongue, battling, opposing and caressing, deeply possessing each other’s mouth, licking, biting their lips, tasting their skin, and back again kissing, smoother though, still eyes wide-open, overwhelmed by the sensations it suddenly released. His hand didn’t free her until they finally broke the kiss, short of breath. They stared at each other.

 

He got up and took her hand.

-          Follow me! And she obeyed.

 

He leaded her quickly through deserted rooms – library, office, lounge, whatever – to his private room, well hidden by heavy curtains, where he had his large bed, near an open view on the forest. She turned towards him after a quick look on the room, her look bright and determined, and waited quietly. No words needed.

He threw his long coat on the floor in a large gesture as he had her sit on the low bed and kneeled in front of her. He was still taller than her, even this way. His eyes darkened when he bent over her.

His lips went first to her throat delicately, then slowly up to her mouth, and he kissed her deeply, his large hands holding her head firmly. He finally could touch her short hair and it pleased him greatly. She gripped him by the neck and kissed him back ardently, opened her mouth to his tongue as she opened her legs to hug him, and her hands went to explore his body. They run down from his large shoulders to his back, caressed his thin hips, his muscular thighs and bottom, and moved back to his neck while her legs hugged him tighter. The great elf had hardened under her hands as if it was his first time being touched.

He liked the direct way she showed him how she wanted him, which wasn’t the way elvish women expressed their desire at all, and he found that very exciting. New and arousing.

She was kissing him now, her tongue pushing into his mouth with hunger, then licking his lips softly, licking his chin, following his jaw, and going to his neck to bite him delicately. Her hands began to loosen his shirt, eager to touch more of his skin but he took them in his and stopped her, then he kissed her fiercely, almost brutal, and she let him dominate her, loose in his grip.

He found very arousing that she could be alternately dominant and docile, knowing instinctively how to answer him, responding to his desire without hesitation, sure of her own, and he wanted her deeply. He wanted to smell her skin, her flesh, to taste her sweat, to possess her and feel her satisfied desire, and he wanted her now. He hadn’t felt this need for so long. And never for a human.

 

He moved back and took off his shirt swiftly, enjoyed her burning look on his chest, removed his boots and pants, and showed her his elvish pale body, slender, strong and very hard. Being an elf, he was very comfortable with his nudity, but wasn’t sure of the human feelings about it, so he would let her undress at her time.

He kneeled on the bed, offering himself to her stare, fully aware of his beauty but also flattered by her hungry look, and kissed her again, without even a move to undress her, but caressing her face and throat, holding her tight in his hands, watching at her, sliding his hand in her short hair again - smooth and light they were, he definitely liked the feeling under his fingers - and her strange round ears. He smiled. It was the first time she saw him smile, and it made her heart pound.

She was fascinated by his soft, pale skin, his long blond hair, as white as the moon, and his tall and slim body. So tall, so beautiful and so smooth in his moves despite his muscular shape. She kneeled too and came closer, caressed and licked his chest, played with his nipples with her tongue – it made him breathe deeper - then went back to his neck to grip him tight as they kissed wildly. She pressed her body on his, felt his sex, hard and strong, and rubbed against him greedily before surrendered to his embrace.

His mouth was demanding, his tongue urging her, his grip imperious, but protective too, and she felt just fine in his arms. She couldn’t stop looking at his deep grey eyes – really non human eyes - fixed on her, burning her, wanting her. She couldn’t remember if she had ever wanted someone like she wanted him now, though she couldn’t care less. She only knew what she felt now, and her body seemed to know how to act.

 

She then started to remove her shirt, and it made him moved away from her. He sat quietly at the bedhead and stared at her, his eyes glittering and hot. She slowed down her moves while removing her shirt, delighted to see his lustful look on her, and stripped.

He was deep breathing, excited by the way she moved, aroused by her well-defined body, her small breasts, her flat belly, her muscular legs, her rounded buttocks, and at last, the light auburn hair of her sex as she turned to face him. He shivered as she crawled forward to him, dark eyed, provocative, and sat on his lap, face to face, putting her hands around his neck. Sitting like this, she was almost his height. But not quite.

Her eyes opened wide as he held her tight and kissed her softly, his tongue as sweet as his fingers running on her naked skin. She sighed and kissed him harder, asking him more by pushing her body on his, to feel more of his skin on hers. Her sex rubbed against his, briefly, and although he could have possessed her right now, he held her back, grasping her with one arm, caressing her with his other hand, caressing her hair, her neck, her stomach, her thighs, licking her breasts, tasting her skin and biting her nipples, breathing her smell, getting lost in the sensations he didn’t feel for so long now. Her naked body was a new world to explore for his sharpened senses, and he sank deeply and gladly into these delightful sensations, his gaze still fixed on her dark eyes.

After a time, couldn’t stand more teasing, she slipped closer to him with a feverish look, and guided his sex to penetrate her as she kissed him. He felt her, warm and wet and tight around him. Exquisitely tight. His eyes rolled back and he lost his breathe when she pushed him deeply into her and bit her lips as she began moving, slowly, driving him deeper and stronger into her. She was enjoying the feeling of his strong and hard sex in her, his body bound to hers, his eyes wide open, the dilated dark pupils fixed on her, and as she moved wider she asked him to hold her tight, which he gladly did. Her clitoris rubbed on his pubis at each move while he was penetrating her very deeply, filling her entirely, and she moaned softly as they went on and on. The sensation of him inside her was incredibly strong, and she suddenly stopped moving, her pleasure increasing dangerously high. She gripped his shoulders hard, deep breathing to contain herself. Her eyes flickered as he grinned at her greedily. He knew she was close to come.

He licked her lips, then slowly licked her throat and ear – she shivered under the caress of his tongue - then his hands lifted her slightly up, and down, her clitoris still pressed on his pubis, and went again, slightly up and down, each time filling her harder, each time having her deeply, each time driving her closer to her pleasure. As if he knew already her way to come, he was driving her to her climax, pushing his tongue into her mouth as he pushed his sex into her, and she gripped him harder and surrendered to his pace and they came together, with long jerks of pleasure.

Gasping for breath, they looked at each other, said nothing but hugged tight, still deeply tied. Then they kissed again, slowly, and finally closed their eyes.

 

Time passed as they took their breath back. He was still leaning back against the bedhead, and had her lain on his legs bent. His hand was caressing her stomach casually, softly brushing her pubis, still tied to his. She felt him inside her, warm and still hard, filling her deeply. It felt good. She stretched a hand to him, and he held it. So small in his. He kissed it.

Then he moved to untie their bodies, gently, and lay down with her, face to face. Resting on his elbow he began to caress her, with both hand and eyes. She was staring at him too, looking serious. They hadn’t spoken at all, and strangely, it didn’t seem to matter.

She touched his lips with light fingers, his mouth opened and he sucked them softly, his light grey eyes fixed on her. She felt immediately excited. His tongue played with her fingers a little more, then she ran them to his jaw, followed the line up to his ear - this strange pointy ear - she caressed delicately, as if it could break. His skin was soft, his hair silk, his ears jewelry, she was overwhelmed by his beauty.

The elf was staring at her, still, soft breathing under her touch. His look gentle and dreamy.

She moved her mouth to his chest, where she kissed lightly and designed patterns with her tongue slowly before going back to his mouth for a languid kiss. He kissed her lustfully, and held her neck softly.

Her hands were caressing his stomach, flat and muscular, his hip, his back, and went finally to his erect sex. He then broke the kiss and took her hand softly, but firmly. His head moved slightly to say no, although his eyes were hungry. He made her lie down and caught both her hands, holding them above her head with one hand, and his long white hair covered them as he leant to her. His tongue played with her lips, licked her cheekbones, her eyebrows, her throat, he bit her softly, then harder, and when he saw her mouth open, unsatisfied, languishing to his, he penetrated her with his tongue, in a passionate and long kiss. She twisted her body and wrapped her legs around him. She wanted to feel his skin on hers.

He broke the kiss to stare at her languidly, caressed her face - she sucked his fingers as he touched her mouth, her tongue sweet and teasing - then he went to caress her pubis hair softly.

-          I want to feel you from the inside again, he said in a deep voice, his look dark and greedy.

She shivered to the sound of his voice, then nodded and unwrapped her legs slightly. Without taking his eyes off her, he slipped his hand gently to caress her inner thigh, caressed her sex very softly, it was hot and wet with desire, played with light fingers with her clitoris, the same way his tongue came to played with her tongue now, and when she arched to him in begging, he slipped his hand under her back, and penetrated her slowly. They both moaned. She was even tighter than before pleasure, and it increased his desire instantly. He held her by the neck and kissed her while he pushed into her deeper. She rubbed against him, and he started to move without haste, enjoying their tied sexes again, the taste of her mouth, the smell of her skin, the feeling of her pleasure growing as he pushed into her deep and tight. She closed her eyes as she gave her mouth up to his kisses, gave her flesh up to his grip, and he shuddered to see how deep he possessed her right now.

He grabbed her hips with both hands, and she tied her legs tighter around his hips to receive him fully. He loved the way she was welcoming each of his moves with her arched body; she was stronger than he thought. Then she gripped his buttocks, and he went faster, holding her clung on his body, breathing hard in her neck, and when he heard her cried and gripped him harder, getting him deeply into her, he came with a strong jerk, and went on and on to make her come longer, again and again.

After a last jerk, he lay on her, panting, licked the sweat in her neck and bit her. She had a sugar-salty taste, and smelt of wood now. He long breathed as he felt her hands sliding in his hair. He shivered.

She disappeared so entirely in his arms that he felt he could crush her. He straightened a little. She was watching him, with this dark look of her. Human look. He refused to think about what he was doing with her, closed his eyes and kissed her languidly.

She untied her legs around him, but refused to let him go.

-          Don’t move away. She whispered. I like to feel you inside me.

He licked her lips and his tongue caressed softly her tongue, while his hand was running down her neck and chest. They kissed again, licking and biting their mouth with sensuality, eye to eye, feeling their warm breathes on each other skin. Then softly, he went back from her, and she saw that he was as hard as ever.

-          I’m an elf. He said at her look, and lay down at her side, his arm around her in a possessive gesture.

-          I ignored elves last longer than humans.

He kissed her and shrugged.

-          There are some things you ignore, indeed. He smiled as she frowned. But not all, it seems, he added.

His eyes were full of mischief as he drew her toward him and bit her lips softly. She lay down on him and kissed him back before her mouth went down and bit him lightly in the neck. He offered her to bite harder, and she obliged him. His skin was soft and warm, and she had to stop herself from biting him to blood, and kissed him back instead, playing with his lips with her tongue.

He took her head in his large hands, his eyes feverish again.

-          Actually, it seems you know how to make love to me. And he kissed her deeply. His touch made her shiver as he caressed her back and ran lower on her body, and the kiss lasted.

When they caught their breath back and stared at each other with burning looks, she felt dizzy, unable to understand what was happening for a few seconds. The grey eyes were her only anchor in this reality she didn’t understand, although they gave her fever. She shivered once again, and banished these thoughts as she drew a path of kisses on his shoulders, biting and teasing him, soon forgetting her dizziness in the warmth of his caressing hands.

After a long time kissing and caressing, he watched at her and brush her lips with his fingers.

-          I want you to ride me again. He said in a deep voice.

She felt her heart pounded, excited by his words.

-          Gladly. She whispered in his ear. But not yet.

She sucked and bit his ear lobe softly, then followed the line of his jaw with her tongue, lingered in his neck to bite, and went to his chest, licking and kissing him all along, teasing his nipples - sweet tongue, sharp teeth – for long minutes, her hands meanwhile running on his slender body. Then she went lower and began to lick the head of his erect sex, but he once again stopped her and pulled her softly onto his chest.

-          Not now. He said. Now it’s your sex I want. His voice was gentle but undisputable.

She kissed him as he drew her hips toward his, and let him drive her to his sex, docile. She let him penetrate her a little, then she stopped, moved back, had a mischief look on him, and let him penetrate her again, just a little bit more, before stopping and moving back again. He still held her, but his grip loosened as he accepted her lead. She pushed him into her slowly, then back again, and replayed the scene once again. And again.

His grey eyes darkened.

-          You won’t have me beg. He groaned.

She pushed him back into her, deeper, and moved back again.

-          No? She said in a teasing smile. She stayed still, his hard sex just at her entrance. She could see on his face how needy and painful it was for him now.

They stared at each other for long seconds, then he quickly straightened and grabbed her harshly by the neck, his steel anger eyes fixed on hers, and as he didn’t want to force her sex, he penetrated her mouth with his tongue, hard and imperious.

She then impaled herself deeply on him, and he gasped in her mouth, surprised and delighted. His anger vanished instantly. She was around him again, tight and hot, and she moved languidly, driving him deeper into her, her hands tied around his neck as he lost his breath in her mouth. He moaned and closed his eyes. She drove him mad as no one had for long time now, as if she knew how to play with him and make him come harder. She looked at him and grinned.

-          Was it how you wanted me to ride you? She muttered while increasing her moves.

He bit her lips and groaned at her.

-          Yes! He sounded hoarse.

He held her harder and pushed deeper into her, making her cry a little. Then they forgot everything, except their needy bodies moving wide together to reach their climax. He recovered his mind when she came loudly, and when he came too, panting in her arms.

When they lay down back on the bed, hard breathing, holding tight in each other’s arms, he felt satisfied, at last. For a time, at least.

They stayed still and silent for a long time, her head on his chest, listening to his heart, his arms around her.

He caressed her head lightly, and kissed her.

-          We will have a bath now. He said. And eat and drink something before…He paused. She half smiled.

-          Before?

-          Before I had you come again, for my mouth is hungry to know you.

He watched outside where the night had fallen.

-          We have all the night for us…

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to bath, relax, and recover.

 

The elf and the young woman relaxed themselves in a huge cedar wood pool, filled with warm natural spring water. They had cleaned carefully before bathing, and now they lingered, almost sleepy. Her head resting on the wood, her body half lying down, she had closed her eyes and breathed slowly. The great elf was close, face to her, but they didn’t touch each other. Nor talked to each other. They just glanced from time to time. The tall elf looked distant again, as he always appeared until they…well, she knew how he was. The fact that she had broken his wall once didn’t mean it could be sustainably open.

 

After a while, he got up and went to bath in a smaller pool, carved out of solid rock. She eyed intently his dripping naked body as he walked by, his long white hair stuck on his shoulders and back, then he plunged swiftly in the pool, where he sat and stretched his arms on the edge. He had turned his back to her, but something in his bearing betrayed his wait for her.

She went to the rocky pool in her turn, and plunged directly in the water. She deep breathed and widened. It was incredibly icy. He had a mischievous look, as he waited for her reaction, but she only nodded at him in understanding. He smiled, amused. She relaxed after few deep breathes, but she knew she wouldn’t stay long in this freezing bath, although it wakened and reinvigorated her body.

 

When she finally went out of the water, her teeth began to chatter, and she wrapped in a long fabric placed by a fire to heat. Everything was so perfectly designed to be comfy and warm in this house bath. Candles were lighting the place smoothly, just as the fireplaces did, and the wood on the floor were warm and soft. It looked like a private house bath, more comfortable and smooth than the ones she had been the days before.

She wiped vigorously, and when she felt large hands on her shoulders, her stomach knotted instantly. She leaned against the elf body as he enfolded her in his arms and bit the back of her neck. Then she turned to face him and his non-human grey eyes gave her dizzy. His face was so serious. She shivered, with cold or him, she didn’t know.

He slipped into a bathrobe without wiping, not taking his eyes off her, then wrapped her in another robe, too large for her, and invited her to follow him, once again.

 

 

They sat at a table in a nice room, wall covered with books and rolled parchments in wood shelves, maybe near the bedroom they had been before, for all she knew. When they had arrived, some food and wine was already there, nicely arranged with wood plates and fine glass goblets. Bread, cold meat, vegetables and fruits, almonds and nuts, spring water in jugs, white and red wines in lovely carafes, they had enough to feed at least five persons.

They didn’t eat much, but drink a little more, as much water as wine.

They were not lovers anymore, but guest and host, and they didn’t talk much. Until the young woman begins.

-         I hear everyone call you Lord. She said. What kind of Lord are you?

He had a disdainful frown, and straightened.

-         The kind of Lord you not discuss with. He said stonily.

She stared at him steadily, and added quietly:

-         A war Lord?

He took a sip from his glass before looking back at her.

-         When needed, yes. His eyes were steel.

She picked some grape in front of her, and went to think.

He observed her thoughtful frown silently, and realized that she maybe not a liar, nor a mad mind at all. She looked sincere and true, and it astonished him. He shook his head softly.

-         You really don’t know who I am. He murmured.

-         How could I? She wondered. I only know your elf world since I’m here, as I told you already, and no one did ever call you anything else than “Lord”. I don’t know your name, nor mine, I can’t say where I come from, where I was going, nothing. The only things I know for sure are my feelings, and it’s sometimes startling, you know.

The elf frowned slightly and darted to her.

-         What are they, these feelings?

-         Mixed, most of time. She was reluctant to say more, obviously.

-         What are your feelings about me?

She gazed at him.

-         I’m not sure right now.

-         But you were earlier.

-         Yes.

He paused and they both drank more wine, looking at each other.

-         You wanted me. He said softly.

-         Yes.

-         You were not sure I wanted you, though.

-         I actually was sure you did not want me. She answered.

-         But you kissed me.

-         Yes.

-         It was boldly.

She had a proud look as she straightened.

-         I am bold. And I was wrong. You wanted me. But you didn’t know it.

The elf stiffened. He didn’t like that one could tell him what he knew or not.

-         And now?

-         You tell me. She defied him with a dark look.

He stared at her stiffly and said nothing. He thought of her naked body and the way he had possessed her earlier and felt his sex hardened. His pupils dilated.

She put her goblet down and stretched on the table to get closer to him. She saw his nostrils quivered as she finally stopped at an inch of his mouth. She could smell the wine from his warm breath, and she knew the taste of berry he should have. She waited, eyes locked on his. She guessed he was trying to resist but knew she had won when his eyes darkened on her.

His mouth crushed on hers and their tongues met and mixed brightly, hungry to taste each other again. His hands closed on her neck and he held her softly. She smelt of the fruits she ate and the oil she cleaned with in the bath house. He caressed her body through the soft fabric of the bath robe, and knew it was time for them to have sex again. He got up, and sat her lightly on the table, pushing the plates and food without care. Her bath robe opened, revealing her muscular legs, but shadowing her inner thigh. She kissed him fiercely and drew him closer to her. Her hands went into his bath robe to caress his chest and stomach, his back and shoulders, and soon the robe slid down. He freed his arms from it and let it down to his waist. His beauty took her breath away, and she kissed him again feverishly. She licked his lips and bit his tongue softly, played with his mouth as he played with hers, and they sank into a deep sexual kiss.

When they broke the kiss, he lied her down on the table and opened wide her robe, exposing her breasts to his mouth and hands. Her muscular belly tensed under his tongue and teeth as he designed patterns on her skin. He untied her belt and undressed her, brushed her pubis hair softly with his mouth, caressed her hips and thighs with his both hands, and went back to her mouth to kiss her deeply. His harden sex crushed on her body, and he moaned softly when her hands caressed his back and bottom. He bit her lips, licked her cheek and earlobe, then licked her neck and bit it lightly, as she twisted a little to offer him more.

Then he traced a path with his tongue, slowly, from her neck to her navel, then to her pubis, where he stopped. His breath was warm on her skin, and she tensed in expectation.

His tongue slipped into her lips, softly, tasting her sex delicately, going slowly lower. She was wet and warm. She shivered under the softness of his touch, and slightly opened her thighs in acceptation. He opened her lips smoothly, enough to suck her clitoris delicately, softly, as if it was to break, licked it slowly, relaxing her totally, then sucked it again deeper, tongue and lips playing together to enhance her pleasure.

When he straightened to glance at her, he saw she had held her hands above her head and had closed her eyes, trusting him completely.

He opened her legs a little more, and darted his tongue deep into her, tasting her inner flesh with delight, and went to her clitoris again. She moaned softly and arched under his mouth. He sucked her as he would have suck a male, played with her, raising up and down her pleasure, making her wait for his tongue when he paused, making her shiver when he bit her lips softly, making her moan as he licked her harder and penetrated her with two fingers. She was now totally subdued to his touch, very close to her climax, and he slowed down to last longer. His mouth went to her mouth again, and they kissed fiercely as his fingers stroked her deep, his thumb on his clitoris.

-         …want your sex. She succeeded to tell in a breath.

He bit her neck wildly and straightened to look at her widen eyes. His caress ended and he brought his fingers to his mouth to lick them as they stared at each other. Then she sucked his fingers too, her nasty tongue making him harden even more.

He straightened, and got her up, then had her turn her back to him. He undressed swiftly, and took off her robe as he pulled her towards him. His hand closed on her sex and she gripped him by the neck, arms high above. She felt his erection on her bottom, and rubbed and pushed harder to feel its strength. His fingers were teasing her clit again, and she arched, leaning entirely against his strong body. He bit her shoulder hard, and shortened to slip his sex in her inner thigh. She had a move of her hips to make it easier, and he penetrated her with strength. She panted as he filled her in two large moves, and his strokes deepened quickly. He held her bonded to his chest, biting and licking her neck, while he was teasing her clitoris with his fingers, and penetrating her savagely. She let herself go as they moved faster, and they soon came violently, with strong jerks and loud groans.

It took them awhile to finally stop moving, and they were heavy panting.

He then went out of her and stood still, his arms closed on her breasts and belly, his head leant to hers, his long hair on her shoulders. She untied her hands from his neck and held his arms around her.

He breathed in her neck, warm and soft, and she twisted to find his mouth to kiss.

After their mouths separated, she sighed and leaned back against his chest.

-         My name is Thranduil. He murmured in her ear.

She shivered at the sound of his deep voice.

-         Thranduil. She repeated slowly. I wish I could tell you my name too.

-         I could call you Melethril, for now. He said softly.

She turned to face him. His eyes were dreamy on her.

-         Does it mean something? She asked.

He nodded and held her face in his hands.

-         Lover.

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

She strained and slightly stepped back as she gazed at him intensely.

-          I mean like someone who makes love with another one. He said sharply. Do not misunderstand me.

Instead of being offended by his sharpness, she looked relieved and nodded.

-          Melethril. She said and shrugged lightly. Whatever. He now was feeling offended by her tone and words.

She turned from him to pick up her bath robe, and held out his to him. She saw the mess they had done: red wine spilled all over the table, fruits crushed on the floor, plates spoiled with water, broken glasses.

-          Sorry for that. She said.

-          My people will take care of that, never mind. He strode across the room while slipping his robe, and looked at her coldly as he stopped in the doorway.

Once again, they were no longer lovers, although he named her so.

He found her indifferent to his attention of naming her in elvish tongue, rough and human she was! He froze and his eyes got disdainful on her. She was small and skinny as a boy, nice but not as beautiful as elvish women, with short tousled hair instead of long silky ones, and, besides to be mortal, she was no one. No one at all.

                She was staring at him darkly, as if she knew what he was thinking right now, and she straightened after knotting her belt tight around her waist. She was not afraid of his cold look, and she walked to him.

-          If I did something to deserve your anger, or if you want me to go, you just tell me, but don’t frown at me like that. She snapped. Cause it’s very unpleasant.

-          Do not talk to me like you… He abruptly said before stopping, surprised, and shook his head.

She was no one, but she acted as she was someone, free in front of him, even if she was lost in a new world for her.

And why wouldn’t she? She had nothing to lose except her life, and her life was in front of her only. Not behind. She could be who she wanted, beginning from now. She was free, indeed, even if she was locked in his palace for days now. And that’s what made her so desirable. He softened.

-          I was wrong. He said with an odd look on her.

She didn’t answer but waited, arms crossed.

-          Melethril won’t go for you.

She raised an eyebrow.

-          Lain would be better, if you accept it.

She nodded softly.

-          It sounds better to ask me yet. What does it mean, then?

-          Free.

She looked at him and her eyes lightened.

-          I like it. Lain is nice.

She uncrossed her arms and moved forwards him. She took his hand and brought it to her mouth to kiss his palm. Her lips were warm and soft. She then kissed sliding, and she licked the tips of his fingers without taking her eyes off him. He looked at her mouth sucking his middle finger over suggestively and his breath accelerated. She was damn as good as teasing as to anger him.

-          Maybe I could thank you for naming me? She whispered then without blinking. And as a free person, be your melethril.

-          Maybe you could. He took her hand and leaned to her ear. My room is just there. He murmured.

And he followed her as she pushed the door with a grin on her face.

 

She led him through the room noticed the wine and glasses on the table, and their clothes well hanged instead of lying all around as they had left them earlier.

-          Your people are very efficient, it seems. She remarked while serving a glass of wine.

-          They are.

-          Now, Lord Thranduil, stay still… She ordered softly as she made him sit in a delicately carved armchair.

She leaned to his mouth and made him drink a sip. The wine was ruby red, sparkling, cool, and delicious. She sat on his lap boldly, one leg on each side of his thighs, and they drank the glass together, alternately, sip after sip, silently. Her eyes gazed his face intently, observing him as she was noticing every details.

She licked the last drop of wine from his lips, put the glass down and looked at him brightly. He hadn’t moved at all, his hands on the armrests, half smiling at her now. She nodded in approving and opened his bath robe slowly to kiss his naked skin. His softness delighted her, and her tongue went to play with his nipples. He straightened and she felt his body aching as she bit him. Then she removed more of the robe to undress his shoulder, kissed him deeply at the beginning of his neck, pushing away his long silky hair. He smelt of wood and sweat, and she went slowly to his ear, licked his earlobe and his shell, kissing his pointy part softly, before moving back to his mouth.

He has closed his eyes.

When he felt her breath on his lips, he opened them to let her tongue slid inside his mouth, licking his lips and teeth, sucking his tongue as if it was his sex, and he shivered and his hands closed hard on the armrests. She broke the kiss and caressed his face with both hands.

He opened his eyes and gazed at her. Her fingers were soft and warm on his cheekbones, his jaws, his nose, his eyebrows, she detailed every part of his face as if discovering him for the first time.

-          You’re beautiful. She whispered before kissing him again.

He threw his arms around her and hugged her but she broke the kiss again and removed his arms gently to the armrests.

-          Do not move yet.

He chuckled lightly and bit her lips to draw her closer and stole her a kiss. She let him win, then leaned to his neck to bite him hard. He moans with both pleasure and pain, twisting under her sharp teeth.

-          If you move, I bite you. She muttered. Agree?

His eyes burnt her with both need and anger. He didn’t like to be led, but he liked the way she balanced the game, so…

-          Agree. He snarled.

She grinned at him and licked his chest and went down to his stomach, unknotted his belt to open wide his robe. His sex was hard and aroused, and she grabbed it with a soft hand while her other hand went to his nipple to tease him before kissing again. She sucked his tongue deeply, large and slow moves, the same pace she stroked him with both her hand and her pubis. She was wet and aroused herself, and was teasing him wildly.

His knuckles turned white on the armrests and he breathed heavier.

She ended the kiss and moved swiftly from his lap to kneel in front of him. She opened his legs slowly and stroked him slowly with both her hands, and her mouth went very close to the head of his sex, her look fixed on his eyes. He tensed, aroused to see her lips so close to him. She waited a little more to tease him, then licked him, just a little, he hardened more, and when finally she put him in her mouth, he had to close his eyes to control the pleasure.

She was hot and sweet, her tongue sliding around and playing with his sex, her lips kissing him, her mouth sucking him deep, as her hands held him firmly and caressed his body – he felt her fingers on his thighs, his stomach, pinching his nipples - and he knew he would come sooner than he wished if he didn’t take care.

She sucked him with her mouth and tongue for a while, sometimes biting him lightly, sometimes licking him, then she accelerated the pace and he had to breathe deeply to control himself. He wanted to come, fiercely, but he wanted her even more fiercely.

He suddenly fetched her and got up, lifting her as lightly as she was feather, an arm under her hips. She tied her legs around his waist, he held her by the neck kissed her madly. He felt her move to lead him in her, and he made his way inside her with a moan.

He felt her tight and hot and he deep ran inside her, almost losing his control. She had wrapped her arms around his neck, and moved her hips eagerly, making him held her harder, and he tried to smooth her to last longer but she was wild and didn’t slow so he kissed her deeper and let their strokes go wider and wider. He was coming when she bit him savagely and he came harder with pain and pleasure mixed – he groaned - and he heard her moaning as she came too, closely bonded to his body. He then kneeled and shivered widely as the last jerks of pleasure shook their entwined bodies.

They held tight, sweaty, panting, disheveled – they hadn’t removed their bathrobes at all - and the time passed by as their breaths went to normal again. He couldn’t loosen his arms from her and kept caressing her short hair with his fingers.

He hadn’t made love like that since so long - maybe never like that, to be true, as he had never known a human before, but then he thought that she surely was not a usual human at all. She had something he didn’t…

-          Thranduil? She said in his ear, and he tingled as he heard her voice.

-          Yes?

-          I’m sorry…

He felt her fingers ran down his neck, but couldn’t see what she showed him. She has blood on her fingers and some had flowed on his bare chest.

-          But you moved. She added as an excuse.

-          Never mind, you wild. He answered, licking his own blood on her finger. I agreed.

He held her tight and sighed as she moved her hips to feel him, still deep in her. He groaned before kissing her eagerly.

After a time, he pulled back from her, and carried her to the bed. She slipped her legs under the sheets as he went to pour some wine in a glass, and waited without taking her eyes off him. Every move of his was swift and soft, and his open robe let her see his slender body as much as she wanted.

He sat on the bed and had a sip.

-          Are you tired? He asked in a low voice.

She took his glass and sipped, before giving it back to him, then leaned against the bed head.

-          Are you? She said.

-          Not yet.

He then dipped two fingers in his glass and slid them in her mouth, then slowly put her head back and spilled some wine on her throat. He watched the ruby wine go down her soft skin and disappeared under the collar of the bath robe. She chuckled lightly as it tickled her, and sighed when he began to lick her soiled skin. His tongue was warm, his lips silky, and she soon closed her eyes to enjoy the sensations of his caresses on her. He clearly wasn’t tired, and neither was she.

 


	4. Chapter 4

The young woman opened her eyes in the night. She saw there were some stars in the dark sky, but still, the end of night was near. She could feel it. And the moon was already gone.

-         Lain. She thought. Lain is now my name.

She smiled. She had a name to be called, and one she really liked.

Beside her lied the tall elf, Thranduil, asleep. She touched his shoulder softly, caressing his skin, silky and white as alabaster. She looked at his face in the pale light of the sky, relaxed and perfectly sculpted, his long hair spreading on the pillows.

She moved and felt her body aching, pleasantly, but aching anyway.

They had fallen asleep without even noticing it after the last time they had made love. She felt her body awakened at this thought.

He had spilled wine on her, licking it on every part of her body, then he had possessed her softly, her back clung to his chest, his lips in her neck, his hand taking care of her pleasure, while he thrust into her deeply, widely, but slowly. They had enjoyed these intimate and gentle strokes, bonded by the softness instead of the lust, and when they had finally came, their moans had been soft and almost sighing. Then they had sunk in a deep sleep, still entwined together, his mouth whispering her name in her ear.

She straightened softly, taking care not to awaken him. The sky turned grey purple on the horizon. She got up, slipped the first bath robe she picked on the floor – it was too large of course - and went outside, on the terrace. The air was fresh and cooling, the forest incredibly huge and without ending, colors not discernible yet, and she shivered. Not from cold but from the awareness of the immensity of the world around her, unknown and beautiful. She felt dizzy and couldn’t stay longer outside.

Back in the room, she walked softly, brushing the delicate tapestries on the wall, the wood carved objects on the shelves, books, parchments, glass sculptures, as she tried to feel who was the person living here by touching his things. Then she found some paper and pencils and she knew what she had to do.

 

The sun was still very pale in the sky, hardly raised above the top of the forest, when Thranduil felt the awakening around him and opened his eyes with a start. He sat swiftly and saw her at the end of the bed. Tousled, merely draped in her bathrobe, sheets of paper and pencils all around her, she had a feverish look, and didn’t stop brushing the sheet on her lap, not even noticing of his move. As he looked at her, some pictures of the previous night flashed in his mind. Lust and hunger. He hadn’t felt these feelings so strong since… He chased out the thought of his mind and focused on the present.

He strangely didn’t feel as old as he usually felt, not so tired and unconcerned, and, without being light and merry, he felt something like energy and peace in his body.

Sex was good for health, indeed.

But what was he to do with this human now?

-         Lain? He called.

-         Mmmm. She muttered without heading up.

He moved to her swiftly and had a look on the sheets around her. He stiffened. Drawings. Many drawings. Of him, mostly. Asleep, peaceful, vulnerable. And brightly drawn.

He looked at the one she now was working on and shivered. His face, half burnt and dried as old parchment, disfigured.

-         Lain? Stop now. He said sharply.

Her look didn’t flicker and she kept drawing, fast and clever. She clearly wasn’t aware of him, nor anything else. He put his hand on her wrist, gently, and his touch awakened her suddenly. Her eyes blinked and she straightened to look at him.

-         What? Oh! You’re awake!

-         So are you now. He replied.

She nodded and saw the drawings in his hand. Bemused, she put her pencil down.

-         What is this? He asked dryly.

She had a look at the sheets in his hands and shrugged.

-         Drawings.

He shook his head.

-         Not these. This. He pointed the drawing on her lap and she widened as she looked at it.

-         I… Well, it’s… You.

-         I can see that. He said coldly. Why did you draw me disfigured?

-         I don’t know, it came like that! She answered. The drawing was nicely done, even if it was upsetting, and she didn’t like the critical tone of his voice. Inspiration I suppose. She shrugged again.

He stiffened and squinted, and remained silent.

-         You’re upset I disfigured you, I see. She said in a low voice. I didn’t mean to hurt you. In fact, I didn’t know I was able to draw until I did it, and you were there, asleep, still and… beautiful. And I drew.

-         I’m not upset.

-         I can see you are, and, well, I understand, I wouldn’t like to see me disfigured either. Even if it’s only a drawing.

He stared at her intently.

-         I see. He finally said.

Then he got up and dressed quickly in a robe. He had a strange look on her. His demeanor was disdainful and cold, his body tensed and stiffened. She didn’t understand his reaction.

-         I will keep the drawings. He said dryly.

She frowned and stood up.

-         I suppose I will leave, then. She said sharply, moving to get her clothes, carefully folded on a chair.

He gazed at her: in anger, she was slipping quickly in her clothes, ignoring him. He was so hatefully smug that she doesn’t want to see his face anymore. He paced to her and stopped at few inches without touching her.

-         Don’t. He said. Her dark eyes locked on his. He could see once again this sparkle in them, the one that made him feel lustful and hungry. But now was not the time.

-         Stay here, have your meal in my dining room, use my bath house, and draw if you want to. Wherever you want to.

She frowned and found him suddenly once again appealing. His grey eyes were almost blue in the morning light, and deep on her.

-         One thing, though. He added softly.

-         What?

-         Your drawings. Don’t show them to anyone but me. For now.

She reluctantly nodded, but she nodded anyway. It was not like she had friends to show them, anyway.

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

-          I think we should talk to Mithrandir, Argalad. Send birds and messengers to find him. The sooner the better. He must come.

The thin elf beside Thranduil nodded as he finished writing a note. With long black hair braided to keep his nice face cleared, his eyes bright green, he seemed both excited and focused on his task. Quite younger than his king, too.

Books and parchments were spread on the large table of the big library, pages and pages of small written, old and often cryptic, sometimes illuminated with nice elvish pattern in bright colors. The two elves had spent hours in the library, checking about something they were not sure to exist, let alone to find. But they did manage to, finally, and they were in need for someone who could tell them more. Mithrandir could be this one, surely.

Thranduil remembered now the cautious eye of the old wizard when he had seen the human, as if he suspected something about her, but of course he hadn’t say a word. He frowned.

-          I’ll let you know as soon as I heard of Mithrandir, my Lord. And as soon as I find something else here. Bowed the young elf as Thranduil took his leave.

 

He found the human in the hanging gardens, at the far end of the higher level, as a guard had told him.

The gardens were the pride and joy of the sylvan elves of Mirkwood, huge, complicated levels entwined with the thousand-year-old trees of the forest, where plants, aromatic and medicinal plants, flowers and trees grew, season after season, creating an incredible tangle of life. Many gardeners worked to maintain the health and balance of the whole thing, feeding and irrigating the soil, removing some of the bad seeds, pruning bushes, cutting branches, planting and creating more platforms to increase the area of the gardens.

Some vineyards were to be seen southwards, small vineyards which produced an unrivaled wine, in too small quantity to satisfy the lord of Mirkwood, but yet, they would soon expand, as vines had been added a few years ago. A few levels lower spread the vegetable gardens, where can be seen many workers, nicely dressed in warm colors and bright green.

The variety of plants was infinite, and the colors mixed delightfully in the sun of this end of day.

Thranduil paced through ornamental gardens and small hanging bridges to reach the place where Lain was to be found. He saw her at the promontory where he sometimes came to think and remember old ages.

She was watching at the horizon, sitting legs crossed and chin in her hands. She startled when she heard his steps behind her, but looked relieved when she recognized him.

-          Thranduil. She said, and as he came closer, she looked at him intently. He was tall, with long legs, thin hips and large shoulders; the neck strong, the head straight, and his piercing eyes proud and light. Very attractive. She tensed slightly as she remembered straddling him the previous night.

He sat quietly at her side, and stared at her. He had seen her eyes darkened at his sight, but now she was looking back at the cloudy horizon.

He felt something weird and animal in her, something he couldn’t explain, and although she was not the beauty he used to like, and sometimes spend time with, she had something that appealed him deeply.

-          What’s wrong with my drawings? She asked softly.

He stiffened.

-          Why do you ask that?

She looked at him.

-          You asked me not to show them, and… well, I don’t know, I begin to draw something and suddenly, it’s something else, something I can’t see really, something different, but I know it’s the truth. She said.

-          You have more drawings, then? He asked in low voice.

-          Yes, here.

She held out the leather folder he gave her earlier to him and frowned as he opened it.

Many drawings she had done, some of the gardens, the plants, the opening windows of the palace in the trees, he could recognize every details, and some of another gardens, differently arranged, with sculptures and fountains and bigger trees, and faces of people, elves and…

He closed his eyes and shivered. Then he deeply breathed and looked at her.

-          What are you, really? He murmured.

Her eyes widened and she stopped breathing.

-          I don’t know. She muttered. And looking back at the cloudy sky, she sighed. She looked briefly miserable and fragile, but she stiffened and frowned to hide it.

Thranduil caressed her cheek with his thumb, lightly, and felt her relaxed under hit touch. So easily. She turned her dark eyes to him, her lips slightly opened, and his mouth crashed on hers before he could think of it. Hit tongue invaded her and she answered fiercely to his kiss, holding him by the neck. Tongues and teeth and lips kissing deeply, their breaths accelerated as their hands found buttons and laces to unleash, eager to touch more skin.

They broke the kiss shortly to look at each other with feverish, greedy eyes, and as they kissed again, they removed their shirts swiftly and clung, her body tight embraced in his arms. He held her head firmly, sliding his fingers through her short hair, and bit her lower lip. She moaned and rubbed to his chest. He shivered. The softness of her skin made him wanting to bite her hard.

They stretched out on the grass, she under him.

He brushed her neck with his lips and resisted to bite her, then licked her breasts and played with her hardened nipples, softly biting, hardly licking, pinching them, until she held his head back and kissed him greedily. He groaned and rolled over to have her on him. She caressed his face, looked at him intently, her eyes soft and deep, her fingers tracing his jaw, then his neck, her lips kissed his throat softly, then his collarbone, her tongue traced a path on his chest, around his nipple and to his other nipple, his skin shivered, she went to his navel, slowly, and lowered to his waist. She caressed his arousal through the fabric of his pants, feeling him harden more under her hand.

She grinned at him and opened his pants slowly. His grey eyes darkened, his heart accelerated and he sat swiftly to kiss her fiercely. He held her face in his hands, his tongue deep in her mouth, and he groaned when she rubbed her hips on his sex. He then glided his hand softly in her pants, and found her wet and needy, already panting under his touch. He pushed a finger in her, gently, and tickled her clitoris with his thumb. She rubbed harder on his hand and moaned as he moved back to caress her neck.

-          You’re so ready. He whispered in her ear.

-          As you are. She answered with a husky voice. He nodded.

They then removed their pants impatiently, without taking their eyes off, and crushed on each other body, eagerly touching, stroking, biting and licking, deeply kissing, short breathing, feverishly looking, and rolled on the grass, half battling, half hugging. He finally pinned her still, her arms grabbed in his hands, his hips holding her down, and kissed her deep, his tongue invaded her mouth in the same move he pushed in her widely. She groaned loudly in his mouth and arched to welcome him and her legs clasped on his bottom to push him deeper. He pulled back, broke the kiss and paused, his eyes closed, then slowly thrust into her deeper, his face in her neck, and moved back. He paused again, then thrust into her and pulled back again, and she tensed in anticipation, waiting for his strokes to accelerate, but he still went slowly, too slowly, he teased her and her legs were trying to hold him tighter, craving for him racing into her. He froze and stared at her, his eyes light and bright.

-          Say it. He whispered.

Her heart stopped and she widened as his eyes scrutinized her.

-          I want you. She breathed as her hips tried to pull him into her, but he was too strong.

He grinned and thrust into her harder, she cried, and then he raced his thrusts into her, deeper, wider, harsher, her hips went wild on his, she wanted to hold him with her hands but he kept them in his, and when she finally convulsed under him he came loudly too, and froze, deep buried in her. Panting, he freed her hands and shivered as she caressed his back, sweet and warm touch on his sweaty skin. His hair stuck on his shoulders and on hers. He rolled on his back, pulling her on him, still entwined in her legs.

-          Oh, my… He murmured as he took his breath back.

She put her head on his chest and panted. He still filled her, hard and strong, and she knew now he would need more than one climax to release him completely. She felt delighted at the thought of them coming again, and she sighed as he closed his arms on her.

 


	6. Chapter 6

 

-          What are we doing? He whispered in her hair, the eyes blurred by his non-yet extinguished lust and the pleasure he just had.

She shrugged lightly on his chest and caressed his long silver hair.

-          Making love outdoor? She said softly.

He took her head in his large hands and lifted her to look at her mischievous eyes. He smiled then and nodded.

-          Indeed. We’re acting like… young elvish people at their first summer night feast! He looked puzzled, but his voice sounded pleased as well.

-          What is a summer night feast?

She sat and moved slowly, pushing him into her by a rounded thrust of her hips. He grabbed her thighs and moaned with pleasure before answering.

-          A night party. With feast and dances and… Ah! More if people want. To do more. Freely. With anyone.

He breathed harder as she moved wider on him, and his eyes darkened. She stared at him and leaned.

-          You enjoy this summer feasts, then? She asked as she slowly brushed his mouth with her lips.

-          I… usually don’t go. Anymore. He gasped when her mouth licked his ear. Not for ages.

-          Ages. His hands pulled her in a deeper thrust. She moaned and straightened. You’re talking like you’re very old. Aaah!

He had clasped her throat and pulled her to his mouth to push his tongue in her wildly, as he pushed himself into her. He bit her tongue softly, then sucked it as if it was her sex, deeply, slowly, in a very arousal way, and they got lost in the kiss, forgetting to move further. When they took back their breath, re-opening their eyes, they resumed their stroking, increasing their pace.

-          I am old. He finally muttered as he held her firmly by her hips and led her on him.

                She didn’t seem to hear him and leaned back, her hands clutched on his legs. He caressed her clitoris with soft circling moves and pushed himself harder into her tightness, letting his strength took them away deep in the pleasure, and he closed his eyes to enjoy the sensations of their bonded bodies, of her sex around him, of her sex under his fingers, of her body so responding, of his hand on her skin, of her hands hard gripped on his thighs, of her breath, speed and harsh, of his own, heavy and jerky, and as soon as he felt her jolt under his fingers, he came in harsh thrusts – he heard her cried and trembled as he continued to tease her clit - and he finally straightened to hold her hard, in a last huge jerk of pleasure.

                He put his face in her neck and panted heavily. She was loose in his grip, hard breathing and sweaty, her arms without strength, and she moaned softly. He held her close to him, a long time, and when he finally broke his embrace, he found her weak, her eyes closed and her breath heavy and short. He caressed her face and frowned.

-          Lain? Are you ok? He said softly.

She barely moaned, and her head fall softly on his chest. She was still panting, enable to calm her breathing.

He pulled out of her and laid her gently on the grass, then covered her with her shirt. She shook and curled up.

-          Did you eat or drink today? He asked.

She groaned and trembled harder. Of course she hadn’t!

-          Humans! He grumbled as he slipped in his clothes quickly, and raced through the gardens.

 

Some gardeners looked at their lord with amazed looks as he strode in disheveled clothes to the fruit trees, and came back few minutes later with water jug in addition of cherries. He ignored their puzzled faces but knew that rumors would soon spread. Elves could be so gossipy sometimes.

 

-          What am I doing? He muttered as he kneeled back to the shaking human on the grass. Luckily, the sun was still hot, and had kept her warm. He gave her water, holding her head straight, then forced her to eat some cherry. She swallowed weakly, and he pushed more fruit in her mouth. And again, and again, until she stopped trembling and panting in his arms, and finally opened her eyes. He gave him more water and caressed her face with his long fingers. She straightened a little and leaned against his chest, and he helped her to slip into her shirt, then held her back in his arms, quietly, to warm her up.

-          I think you have completely worn me out. She finally murmured.

-          Elves last longer than humans. He answered softly. Especially the ones who don’t eat or drink in a day. He added sternly.

She chuckled softly, and he felt warmth spreading inside him, in a strange and amazing way. She put her arms around his neck and cuddled up. He froze, bemused by her trust in him, and breathed slowly, his nose in her short golden hair. She smelt of grass and wood.

He lifted her, she was obviously very light, and carried her back to the palace, once again pacing in front of bemused gardeners.

He ordered a guard to get back the folder of drawings and the abandoned clothes, and went straight to his room with his light burden, barely covered by her shirt.

 

-          Thank you. She whispered as he laid her in the bed.

And she fall asleep immediately.

The elf watched her for a long time, lost in thoughts, then looked back at the drawings she made earlier, and sat, even more thoughtful, and drunk some wine, as the sun was disappearing on the horizon.

-          What am I to do with this? He whispered. What am I to do with her?

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys !  
> Thank you for reading !  
> Will be afk for the next week, no update to come for 10 days at last. Hope it would be too long for you !   
> I know I'm not very chatty, but feel free to comment anyway, I'll try to be less shy. ;)

Even if he was a very young elf when they had moved, he could clearly remember the gardens of Doriath. Somptuous, huge and old. Very old. Thousand year old trees, incredibly beautiful fountains, delicate sculptures, wood and stone entwined together for ages, shadowy gazebos, terraces of colorful flowers and glowing bushes, serpentine stairs and vegetal labyrinths, he could see all of these wonderful places just by closing his eyes, in memory.

And now, they were just in front of him, drawn on paper sheets.

How did she manage to draw so precisely the details he hadn’t thought of for centuries now? How could she know about those long ago disappeared gardens? How did she manage to draw the face of his mother?

He narrowed his eyes at his portrait and touched his left cheek without noticing. He had almost forgotten this old wound, so used to hide it with powerful elvish spell. And it was there, in every details, the hideous burned flesh which was his real face. For a half, at least.

He shivered and closed his eyes again. Magic. Sorcery. He didn’t know how to call it.

The piece of information Argalad and he had found in the library showed them that surely, such a gift had been seen before, very long ago though, but in such evasive terms they couldn’t interpret them. They truly needed Mithrandir for that.

Elrond the wise would have been of some use too, for his knowledge about magical things was legendary known, but he didn’t want to call him, for any purpose. He reluctantly thought of Elrond yet, because he remembered him of his late father. He was involved in his death, and that he couldn’t forget, nor forgive.

Bright, strong, seductive and smug. That’s how his father was like. He frowned, well aware how much he was alike him now. Except for the communicative way of being. Secrecy could be his name, really. He smiled bitterly.

He took a sip of wine and sighed, watching the young woman asleep in his bed. He shook his head slowly and his mouth gave a hint of a smile. Having sex outdoor, in daylight! How did he come to do that?

A knock on the door took him out of his thoughts.

-          Come in! He said drily as he stored quickly the drawings in the leather folder.

Two servants entered and bowed, carrying trays of food and drinks, as he had ordered earlier. They quickly disposed everything in a nicely way on the round table, added flowers to decorate, then bowed to Thranduil, and hastened to the door without a word. He didn’t miss their inquisitive look on the bed though.

He lightened more candles and oil lamps and poured his glass with white wine. The night had fallen, and he felt the time slowing and crawling, as usual.

 

He sat on the bed and stared at the sleeping human. Her lips spouted and she frowned as if something displeased her in her sleep. He brushed her cheek with his knuckles, her face relaxed and she opened her eyes slowly.

-          I didn’t mean to wake you. He said, suddenly embarrassed by his gesture. Why did he feel embarrassed while they have had sex many times now?

-          It’s all right. She yawned.

                She sat and rubbed her face, looked around her to recognize the room, and turned her dark eyes on the tall and silent elf. He was sitting stiff on the bed, his eyes scrutinizing her, his face stern and thoughtful. His combed hair fell perfectly on his shoulders, everything in him looked controlled and neat. She thought of how she should look tousled and rough compare to him and mentally shrugged.

-          Hungry? He asked.

-          Famished ! Her face lightened as she saw the food on the table.

She jumped of the bed, naked but her shirt, she didn’t care to pull it to hide her bottom, and moved quickly to the table. She was surprising him by her natural way of being. She could have been raised in the forest, for all he knew.

-          Would you join me? She asked, half chewing a piece of bread already.

He poured her a glass of wine with a wry smile, and sat. He could see one of her breasts in the opening of her shirt, and he felt his desire rising.

-          What time is it? Did I sleep long?

-          Few hours. Eat this.

She obeyed with a childish smile and took a bite of cheese.

-          Delicious!

He nodded and took one sip of wine.

-          You changed. She said with an approval look at his clothes. It suits you.

He was now wearing a long black velvet jacket on his shirt, with silver embroidery and high collar, and it slimed him nicely. He smiled drily.

-          It’s only clothes.

She shrugged and took some vegetables in salad, nodding after she tasted them. He watched her eat silently, enjoying the view of her simple and spontaneous joy. She paused after few minutes.

-          I had a question. She said.

He raised an eyebrow and waited for her to talk.

-          You said you’re old, earlier this day, and you didn’t mean to joke. She had an inquisitive look on him.

-          So?

-          I don’t feel you old. I feel you cold, sometimes, and too stern, and smug, and also stiff.

-          What a nice depiction of me. You flatter me.

-          I don’t mean that’s what you are. It’s what you want people feel from you, I guess. But old? She shook her head slowly.

Thranduil sighed and looked at her deeply.

-          I had lived many years yet. And many lives.

She cocked her head and narrowed at him.

-          I believe you avoided to live many lives too. She murmured.

He stiffened and poured their glasses with white wine.

-          You need a bath. He said then to change the subject. She was talking too much of him.

She frowned and took more food in her plate. She really was hungry and eating fast, as if someone was about to take her plate.

-          If it’s a way to tell me I’m stinky, it’s not very nice. She said, looking vexed, then drink wine to punctuate her sentence.

He half smiled. She really had bad temper.

-          I mean to refresh you. He said more gently. You smell good.

She raised an eyebrow and swallowed.

-          Thank you. She muttered. She looked around her. I will need my clothes too.

-          Or maybe not.

He intently stared at her, from her naked legs to her open shirt, and she felt her stomach knotted. She sipped from her glass in silence. His grey eyes darkened with lust as she ate some cherries. Although she didn’t do this on purpose, it has an arousal effect on him, clearly. She got up and came close to him, and put a cherry in front of his lips.

-          Bite. She said softly. His right hand brushed her thigh and went up to her bare bottom under the shirt. Very gently, he caressed her, brushing her inner thighs lightly.

                He took time to bit the fruit, his eyes focused on hers, and then she leaned and kissed him, tasting the cherry flavor on his lips and tongue with delight, her hands caressing his face. His mouth responded warmly to her kiss, his tongue gliding in her mouth languidly, and she felt she was getting aroused again. She broke the kiss softly, and moved back.

-          I need to pee! She suddenly said.

Thranduil looked chocked at her, then grinned as he would have to a cheeky child.

-          I think you remember where it is. He said, looking at the door which was also leading to the bath house.

She nodded, made a face, and disappeared quickly through the doorway.

He stayed puzzled and wondered. Did every human act this strange unashamed way?!

The tall elf went to the terrace slowly and gazed at the stars, and for once, they didn’t seem so cold and lonely.

 

                It took her time to come back, but as he saw her draped in a robe, her hair wet and almost combed, he approved with a nod before turning his attention back to the sky. She had a stern look, and as she came to his side, her glass of wine in hand, she frowned.

-          There are guards in the corridor. She said with a dry voice.

-          Yes.

-          Is it for you protection or to watch me?

He narrowed without looking at her.

-          To keep an eye on you. I don’t want you to get lost in the palace.

-          I’m a prisoner, right. She seemed to remember.

-          I would rather say a guest. A protected one.

-          Yeah. She had a skeptical voice.

She drunk from her glass, put it down on the handrail and watched the stars thoughtfully.

The silence between them went deep and heavy, as if they took the measure of what separated them. She was human, no one really, no memory, some kind of artist maybe, lost in an unknown country, and he was an elf, a lord, with a full life of memories and burdens to carry. They were not meant to meet and know each other, obviously. But she didn’t care.

She looked at him. His profile was well defined, his eyes lost in the darkness of the night, his silver hair gently glowing in the star light. He turned to her, slowly. She had to hold her head up to match his eyes, she was really small compared to him.

The way she affected him, especially when she was looking at him like that, was a mystery to him. Something animal in her that he couldn’t resist. Or chose not to since she had kissed him, when was it, yesterday?

His look softened on her. He leaned, lifted her chin and kissed her, opening her lips, invading her mouth softly, sinking in her caressing tongue, barely aware of her body clinging to his. The feelings of her sweet mouth overwhelmed him and he closed his eyes.

He didn’t know who or what she was, but she was good for him, and he didn’t want to escape this, for once in his too long life.

He lifted her in his arms and went to the bed, his eyes hooked up on hers. She sat, legs crossed, and held her breath as he quietly removed his clothes. His body was tense and muscular, his skin pale and soft, she knew it now, his arousal strong and hard, and his eyes burning on her. She flushed, and felt butterflies in her stomach.

He kneeled and kissed her, holding her face in his hands, she arched and gripped his neck, gliding her tongue deep in his mouth. His hands slid down on her shoulders, caressing, then opened her robe to free her arms, went on her back, as her hands brushed his chest, soft and warm, that made him shiver. He unknotted her belt and caressed her stomach, kissed her neck and ear, she tensed under his touch, and raised to remove her robe and face him.

He sat on his heels and welcomed her on his lap, his hands suddenly feverish, touching her hair, her back, her buttocks, her thighs, her breasts, his greedy eyes wide open, his mouth demanding, he knew she was aroused and ready for him, he smelt her inner scent and it excited him more. She breathed hard and couldn’t think anymore, except of his hands on her, warm and needy, his mouth she was exploring deeply, his skin she was touching tirelessly, his muscles under her fingers, his sex hard on her own, eager to possess her, and they forgot everything else, the why and how, and sunk into their love-making.

She closed her eyes when he penetrated her, focused on his strength into her, on the feeling of him into her, filling her deeply, and she moaned with delight. He moved slowly, reveling in her tightness, caressing her clit gently as he looked at her, beautifully and totally offered to him, and glided his fingers in her open mouth.

She sucked him sensually, matching with the rhythm of his thrusts in her. He moaned at this exciting view.

Then she opened her eyes, burning on him, and held him by the neck. She led him deeper in her, her thighs tightened on his hips, her clit clung on his pubis, and she started moving in short but deep thrusts. He grabbed her bottom and bit her neck and got lost in her strokes, until he felt her come in violent jerks, and in two wide thrusts he joined her and convulsed in her arms, groaning and as short breathing as she was.

They stayed still for a long time, deeply breathing in each other arms.

Then they looked at each other, and kissed again, languidly. His fingers caressed her face tenderly.

-          What are you? He whispered.

-          Lain. She said softly.

She coiled up on his chest, inhaling deeply his scent, and he locked her in his arms, his nose in her hair.

-          I feel you nice and strong, and gentle and proud, and hurt and lonely too. And I want you. Every time I look at you. She murmured. That’s what I am.

He hugged her tight and feared he couldn’t let her go if she was to stay longer with him. And he knew he didn’t want her to go, already. He didn’t want to share her with anyone. She was his. No memory, no history, no judging, just her, full of life. Everything he was not. His.

-          I want you too. He finally said in a whisper.

               


	8. Chapter 8

After a long time passed entwined together in silence, they kissed again, slowly, tenderly, languidly, as young lovers do – and young lovers they were for they knew each other for only a night and a day now – and they felt hunger for each other, vivid and tenacious, coming back again, and couldn’t but try to extinguish it.

They made love once again, without haste, eyes to eyes, Thranduil deeply but gently thrusting into her, her legs tied around his hips, offered, arching to meet him at each stroke. He was watching her, and she didn’t look away, bold as always. He liked her way to offer her body to his strokes and, in the same time, to show him proudly that she chose to do it, freely, and to possess him too. Elvish women didn’t have this arrogance in the eyes. At least, not with him.

He played with her as he thrust slowly, his fingers light and smooth on her clit, and her hands clutched on the blanket of the bed, her eyes dark and greedy on him. He paused to let her calm down before teasing her again, pushing deeper in her, then slowed again and pulled out of her, leaning to kiss and nip her breasts and neck. He felt her hands in his hair, caressing him softly.

-          I want you. He heard her whisper, and her eyes were bright on him.

He took his time kissing her, biting her neck and licking her lips, his hands still caressing her buttocks and thighs.

Then he held her tight and penetrated her hard and strong. She gasped and arched convulsively. He was so deep in her.

He pulled out slowly and stopped at her entrance.

-          More! She hissed as his look questioned her.

He thrust harsher in her, and she gasped louder, and as he moved faster in her, her eyes went blind and blurred. He possessed her widely, his pleasure increasing at each move. Then he caressed her clitoris again and she wildly convulsed under his touch, mouth open but silent, shaken by her climax.

He moaned to feel her inner sex tightening on him, and pushed into her a few more time, filling her deeply as he finally came too.

Panting and reveled, he lied down on her, caressing her face and short hair, while her hands slowly traced patterns on his back and shoulders, and without noticing, they fall asleep in the arms of each other.

 

A few hours later, Lain opened her eyes. The oil lamps were still lit up the room, creating orange and dancing shadows on the decorated walls.

Her legs were still entwined with the slender ones of Thranduil, his arm around her waist. She listened to his regular and deep breathing. His skin smelt a soft scent of forest and leaves. She moved slowly, taking care not to wake him.

 

Without thinking, she took some pens and paper and kneeled on the floor.

She just had to let her hand draw. Nothing to think about, nothing to imagine. Just her blurred mind and vision, and then she was drawing.

 

 

Thranduil woke up with a start, immediately focused on what was around him. He saw her in the middle of the room, kneeled naked on the floor, head bent on a sheet of paper, totally unaware of him.

He wondered how he could sleep so deeply when she was around him, he who couldn’t usually sleep with anyone, and moved swiftly to her.

She didn’t move when he kneeled on her side. She was totally absorbed in her drawing. He spoke to her softly. She didn’t react. He touched her, gently. She didn’t react. Her skin was cold. He wrapped her shoulders with a robe, and looked finally at her drawing.

He shivered.

She still continued to draw fragments of his life she couldn’t possibly know, as if she had looked in his memories.

He stayed still on her side until her hand finally stopped. She sighed softly and straightened. Her head turned to him, and her eyes blinked as she awakened. Her gaze took few seconds to recognize him, then she smiled.

-          Thranduil? She said gently.

He simply nodded and took her cold hands in his. She quivered and looked surprised to see her on the floor, him beside her, both naked or so.

-          Have you the slightest idea of what you draw? He said softly.

She shrugged and shook her head. The drawing was still on the floor. He took it and got up, holding his hand to her. Taking it, she raised with difficulty, her legs ankylosed and aching.

 

He led her to the bed, and wrapped her with the sweet blanket, brought her a glass of water and slipped in a dark red robe. Then he went to take the leather folder where he had put her previous drawings and sat next to her. He closed his eyes briefly and took a breath.

-          You’re in a trance when you draw. He quietly said. You can’t see, can’t hear a thing. You can’t feel either, it seems.

She didn’t answer.

-          We need to talk to someone about you and your… abilities.

She stiffened on his side.

-          Who? Why? Her voice sounded stressed. What’s so wrong with this?

He lightly caressed her cheek.

-          Mithrandir is a friend. You saw him when you arrived. Do not worry about him, he will help us. You. To understand. He paused and frowned. And for the why… I supposed I should tell you of these things you see and draw.

His voice faded and he stayed silent. Lain watched him intently. His face clouded, his eyes darkening as his thoughts went gloomy.

Then he closed his eyes and sighed, and when he opened them back they were clear again.

-          Start with this one you draw tonight. He said holding the sheet of paper to her. Here is my wife. His voice went low and weary. Was. She’s dead for many years now. He slowly gestured to show her the elvish man drawn on the same sheet. And he is my son. He closed his eyes briefly. He’s gone for a long time now, and I yearn to hear about him.

-          You have a son. Lain said softly.

-          Yes.

He added nothing, avoiding her eyes as she tried to read his face. Useless. He was closed, far inside himself. A mask of indifference well controlled.

-          The gardens you draw yesterday had disappeared centuries ago, destroyed by war and time, as well as the people you portrayed. My mother, for instance.

She felt cold in her heart.

-          Is your son…? She hesitated.

-          Not that I know of! He said sharply.

-          I’m sorry. She murmured.

Silence stretched between them. She didn’t know what to think.

She shook her head slowly and looked at her hands. Shaken hands.

-          Where has he gone, your son?

-          I sent him to find people to fight with. For the sake of this world, I supposed. But I now hope it was not to meet his fate.

He sighed again and his face softened, but his eyes kept their steel sharpness.

-          I am sorry to bring you this burden. She whispered. I really don’t know what it means. And I can’t control it.

He didn’t answer, nor look at her.

The silence went heavy, each of them sank in deep thoughts.

Then she finally touched his cheek, softly, and ran her fingers down his jaw.

-          What of this wound? She asked gently.

-          An old one. Hidden by a spell. Elvish spell. My face is like you drew it though.

-          Elves are really powerful then.

He nodded.

-          And old? She added.

He nodded again.

-          How old are you? She asked.

He frowned.

-          Is it of any interest, really?

She shrugged slightly.

-          Maybe. Or not.

-          Let’s say few thousand years.

-          Few?

-          Let’s say five.

Her face didn’t show any emotion.

-          I’m afraid I don’t find any sense in this. As I can’t remember beyond these last weeks in this place, it means nothing to me, year or century. I just see you weary and burdened with memories. Heavy memories and sad thoughts.

His grey eyes hooked up on hers, clear and deep.

-          That’s the meaning of age, I suppose.

-          So I’m a very young one. She smiled. And lucky, I guess.

He smiled back at her, wryly. Then he bent to kiss her, his tongue sweet and warm invading her mouth gently, his hands holding her head softly.

His thoughts vanished as they sank in their embrace and he didn’t think further of time and past and dead ones.

 


	9. Chapter 9

 

Few days had passed since messengers had left to reach Mithrandir, and nothing from them was to hear yet. This was not surprising, concerning the old wizard. He wasn’t easy to find, except if he wanted to be found quickly.

 Anyway, these days went peacefully, a kind of routine running quietly between Lain and Thranduil.

 

 During the day, she would stay on her own, walking along the many corridors and levels of the palace, wandering in the gardens, visiting every parts of the palace she wanted, pausing to draw sometimes, observing the workers, often, curious and interested in everything she saw; sometimes people talked to her, and she tried to answer as she could, but more often inquisitive looks and whispers were her lot. When it happened, she didn’t care much and went further on her walk.

Of course she knew she was always under the discreet watch of guards. But that she didn’t care much either. She had refused the company of a maid Thranduil had suggested her, for she preferred being alone and free of her movements. She liked her solitary wanders, and she started to know and talk to the gardeners in the vineyards, which didn’t mind her observing. She sometimes had lunch with them, when meals were brought to them, and they made her taste the wine that growing old in the huge barrels of the cave. She liked their simple acceptance of her and felt at ease with them.

 Summer was almost there, and the luxuriance of the gardens made her feel light and carefree, as a butterfly in a sweet breeze. She felt bonded to the trees and the birds, to the air and the sun, and she often forgot where she was, who she was or wasn’t, and what her life could really mean. She was in the instant, in the present, and nothing more. Quite like an animal.

 But at the end of the day, she yearned to him. She wanted to feel his skin, his hands on her, his slender and muscular body crushing on hers, his mouth on her mouth, and she couldn’t think of something else but him. His scent, his touch, his taste, she needed to have him.Thranduil.

 

For the Elven Lord, the daytime was dedicated to his many duties. Weapon and fighting practice on early morning - sometimes a ride on his favorite horse - took him at least two hours, before he went to clean and bath. Then, massaged and relaxed by the expert hands of his healers, he granted audience until lunch, which he sometimes had to share with courtesans or counselors he couldn’t avoid or hadn’t time to meet earlier. The politic and harmony of the realm needed sacrifices. His lunch could be one of them.

 After a short time for himself that he spent reading or writing, rarely resting, he managed meetings with the officers of his army, listening to the patrols reports and the dangers which spread around Mirkwood day after day, and ordered the strategy to set up. Or, instead of talking of the protection of his realm, he met his trading counselor to talk about the dealings to sign with their neighbors, humans or elves.

At the end of the afternoon, when he finally had time for him, he could study and read in his library, or ride back in the deep of the forest when he was in the mood.

 These days though, whatever he did on the end of the day, he got distracted, his thoughts turning towards her human lover, her dark eyes, her bold face when she met his greedy look, her sweet body under his touch, and the hunger of her found him hastening his way back to her.

 

 The truth was that an unquenchable thirst for each other tormented them after a few hours being apart, and they couldn’t manage it.

 They met up most often in the hanging garden, at the exact place they had made love a few days ago. Sometimes she was waiting for him, fidgety pacing , sometimes he was the first, angry to have to wait, and when they embraced at last, they kissed desperately, famished and feverish, and made love eagerly, violently, almost in anger, the need of each other painful as the need of drug for an addict.

This was, in fact, what they had become. Addicts.

 After they came a first time, feeling good and relieved, freed from the physical pain at least, still entwined and sweaty, they made love again, slower, softer, with the same lust, but a controlled one, this time.

They then reached Thranduil’s apartments, had some wine, watched the night fall and ate before sinking in their lovemaking again. They could last for hours entangled and clung together, and when the sleep came at last, they were still intertwined.

 

No one dared to approach the higher part of the gardens anymore, knowing well that the Lord was meeting his new lover here almost every end of day, as if it was summer fest.

One began to gossip about this lover, this strange young human which went to the Lord’s head. One said she was skinny and boyish, wandering in the palace in common clothes, her hair scandalously short. And one got irritated with the Elvenking who didn’t appear anymore at the court dinners and evenings.

But one also said that the Lord’s mood was lighter and merrier than it has ever been for ages.

And he was.

 

He felt more alive than he used to since he had made love with this strange human. An new energy ran in his veins, giving him strength and excitement instead of weariness and detachment, and, although he kept his usual cold behavior, he felt more stimulated and aware of everything around him, as if a veil had been removed from his senses.

And despite the fact that he didn’t hear a word about his son yet, he was now certain he was all right. The dread feelings that had invaded his heart when seeing the drawings - the painful dread of his dead son - had fainted. Totally. For he felt the inner bond between them back in the deep of his heart. After months of silence and foggy feelings, it was here. Tenuous, but still. His son was alive somewhere.

He couldn’t remember when he had became blind to these inner feelings, but getting them back , even slowly, alerted him to his bad condition. How did he manage to become so distant, so closed to his most beloved being? Was his son aware of this? Did he hurt him without knowing it? How could he let him know the way he felt for him now?

 

Thranduil sighed softly and poured glasses with red wine, a light colored one from his vineyards that Lain had brought back from her wandering.

Daylight was fading away, but the warmth of the sun that shined all day long remained in the evening air. Wine and food had been set up on a round table on the terrace, nicely decorated with flowers and braided weeds.

-         Your father didn’t look like you at all. Lain observed, watching one of her drawings. Although beautiful, he was heavier and looked more like a human than his son, which was more aerial and elegant.

-         My mother blessed me of her grace, I suppose. Answered Thranduil with a smirk. He still didn’t know how to simply accept a nice word on him, thought Lain, but she didn’t care.

They got to speak more freely about the drawings now. Well, she was the one who made him talk about them actually. And while more than reluctant first, he felt more comfortable, if not totally, to evoke these images from his past. He didn’t tell much though, few words to comment, memories it brought back to his mind sometimes, but not much really.

She didn’t ask direct questions, but somehow she managed to learn more about him than he was expecting to let her know. And strangely, he didn’t mind that. He learned about her too, in another way. It was fair.

 

Putting down the drawings, Lain looked at the great elf in the faded light. He was only wearing a pair of black pants and a long unbuttoned silver tunic, which let her guess his muscular chest and flat stomach. His feet bared on the soft wood floor. His hair glowed reddish in the last beams of the sun, and his look seemed to burn in his angular sculpted face.

She came to him and, taking advantage of his hands carrying the glasses, kissed him, sliding her hands from his neck to his chest, then, lecherous and bold, down to his pants. He clung on her hips and rocked against her, his sex hardening at her hands caressing his buttocks and managed to not spill a drop of wine when her mouth sucked his tongue in such a lascivious way it left him out of breath.

He didn’t know how she could arouse him so easily and so deeply at once. Since her first kiss, he had felt his body responded to hers so naturally, he wasn’t sure someone had ever been able to attract him so entirely before. His carnal desire and emotions increased each time they made love, while he usually got bored of his lovers in a few days – or weeks if he had a true crush on someone. She was different, and most of all, he felt different.

She broke the kiss and her warm breath on the skin of his chest sent a shiver down his spine. He opened his eyes slowly. She had pulled her head away and smiled at him while her hands moved gently on him. She glided on his already hardened sex and caressed him boldly, her eyes locked on his. His pupils widened under her touch and her greedy gaze. She grinned and freed one of her hand to take one glass from his grip, drank from it and put it on the pedestal table behind him, before doing the same with the other glass. She then pushed him softly, her hands still caressing him, until his back leaned on the rail. He grabbed it with both his hands and stared at her intently.

She continued her strokes, staring at him to read his feelings on his face, and smiling again when his breath sped up. She felt him hard and strong under the soft fabric of his pants, and she tightened her grip on him while she kneeled before him. She didn’t take her eyes off him as she opened the laces of his pants.

She freed his member and stared at it as if venerating it. She put her fingers in her mouth and licked them suggestively before stroking him slowly with both her hands, her mouth so close that he could feel her warm breath on him. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, hard breathing. Her strokes went stronger on him, her breath warmer, and he moaned when her tongue licked the head of his sex and wound around it. She was so hot and arousal he felt his knees weakened, and grabbed the handrail tighter.

Her tongue twirled around and along his shaft, her hands stroking it playfully, soft, strong, fast then slow again, until he began to breath more easily, enjoying the delicacy of her mouth. She then engulfed him, her mouth becoming a furnace, and he groaned when she pushed him as much as she could to her throat. She grabbed his bottom with a hand while the other still stroked him, and her mouth played vigorously on him then, her tongue swirling and teasing the head of him, her mouth nipping and licking his shaft delightfully.

She was as much tight and hot as her inner sex, he thought as she engulfed him once again. He groaned as she sucked him harder, and his breathing quickened. She was all around him, all wetness and heat, moaning softly as he groaned louder, her hands tightening on his buttocks, her hungry mouth sucking him deeper, harder, her tongue sometimes licking him briefly before she sucked him again, eager to swallow his hard and heavy shaft, and he lost his senses, only aware of her and his pleasure ready to explode.

He panted chaotically as she took him higher and deeper over the edge, sucking him harder as he reached his climax and came in her mouth with a loud moan. He jolted heavily while she continued to lick him, slower yet, but finally managed to take his breath back and sighed loudly. He heard her chuckle lightly and opened his eyes slowly. His vision was vague first, and he looked at her and his face softened.

Her hands caressed him gently as she put his pants back on, then stood up and smiled at him. Her lips were red and full, and still wet. He leaned on her and kissed her fiercely, his tongue tasted his own taste in her mouth, his hands releasing the rail at last, to grab her with strength, eager to possess her, hungry to taste her under his mouth, greedy to make her come, and he lifted her and strode swiftly to the bed.


	10. Chapter 10

The old wizard was narrowing at the Elven Lord silently. He had finally reached the palace the night before, without announcing himself, and Thranduil had discovered him in his study, taking a nap on the cushioned bench near the window, his hat on his belly. The room was filled with the smoke of his pipe, so the elf had hastily opened the window to get fresh air. He then had poured glasses for both of them, and after few questions without answers, he was now waiting calmly for the old man to talk him.

-          Will you, at last, tell me why you’re looking at me this way, Mithrandir?

The wizard took a sip of wine, then filled his pipe quietly with a blend of leaves and weeds he lit immediately. Smoking on his delicate pipe, he nodded slightly and took more time before to clear his throat.

-          You look different, my Lord. He said softly.

The elf stiffened and didn’t answer. It wasn’t a question. He watched the expression on the face of the old man, his blue eyes glittering under his bushy eyebrows, and he felt that he knew something about him he didn’t yet. Something which was important.

-          What have you discovered about the young woman your guards found the previous month?

Thranduil’ eyes flinched but he hooked up on the blue glaze.

-          She has a kind of skill. He reluctantly said in an even voice.

Silence stretched between them. The wizard waited for him to talk further.

-          Which is? He finally asked, his eyes narrowing.

The elf looked briefly outside the window and took a sip. He was standing near the open window, elegant as always, dressed in fawn coat and black pants and boots.

-          She draws memories, it seems. He said eventually.

Mithrandir frowned and took a long puff on his pipe. He coughed lightly.

-          What kind of memories? He asked in a soft voice.

-          My memories.

 

The blue eyes widened a little and the old man coughed and cleared his throat again. Then he stood and stepped forwards to the Elf. He was tall, but not as tall as Thranduil, whom didn’t flinch under his scrutiny.

-          The Valar protect you… He whispered at last as he stepped back and sat. I didn’t think she really was what I suspected she could be.

-          What are you talking about, Mithrandir? What is she?

-          You didn’t… Thranduil, you haven’t? The wizard stopped himself as he glared at the Elf. Oh yes, you have!

 

He stood and paced in the room, muttering and smoking in the same time, under the surprised eye of Thranduil.

-          How could I have guessed that you would be attracted to her? He exclaimed at last.

 

Thranduil jolted and stiffened.

-          What about my… He hesitated then said the word. Attraction?

-          The memories she draws. She can’t take them from nowhere! You got fond of her in some intimate way. Responded Mithrandir with a furious look. Beside, you have changed!

-          I have not. Thranduil frowned. What about the drawings and the memories? I don’t understand.

-          You didn’t think much, as far as I can judge. The wizard grumbled.

The elf had a choked look but answered with an equal voice.

-          Would you please explain yourself instead of insulting me?

-          Let me see her. Right now. Lead me to her. I’ll explain later.

 

 

The wizard looked annoyed and was still grumbling, following the Elven Lord along the pathways. His tall wood stick hammered the floor loudly, as to express his bad mood. On his side, the Elf didn’t talk nor looked at him, stiff and offended by the wizard’s behavior, but strode fast and heavy. He didn’t like to be considered as an ignorant and boiled with impatience.

 

When they finally found Lain, she was lying in the grass, under a willow, and was watching the clouds running in the sky with a blissful smile. Bare feet, she only wore red leggings and the short black shirt without sleeves she used to wear under her tunic. Her short golden hair was tousled and shined in the warm light of the morning sun.

She sat and furrowed when she heard them approaching but her eyes brightened as she saw Thranduil.

The elf felt his heart leaped and fought the urge to take her in his arms to kiss her. Instead, he simply stood at her side once she got up, but couldn’t stop his hand to touch her shoulder. She cocked her head to put her cheek on his fingers and their gazes hooked up. They stared at each other intently and smiled. He could see the desire in her eyes also.

The wizard coughed to draw their attention.

 

-          Lain, this is Mithrandir, whom I talked to you about. Thranduil said, remembering his duty to introduce the wizard.

The wizard raised his eyebrows.

-          Lain? He asked softly. Is this you real name?

 

She shook her head gently.

-          I can’t remember my name. Thranduil named me.

-          I see.

 

The eyes of Mithrandir went thoughtfully from her to the elf and he sighed. There was an obvious bond between these two, and he couldn’t but see it. The way the elf’s hand held her protectively and possessively, the way she let her head leaned on his arm, the way they tensed and attracted each other, all this confirmed him that he could have made a mistake. A huge one.

He felt anger and frustration overwhelm him, but he could only take the measure of this bond now, and possibly try to calm down the situation. Possibly.

First he should know how far they had gone.

He turned his attention to the young woman and scrutinized her. She frowned as he stared her pitiless. She looked young, but yet she could also be much older than she looked, according her way to hold herself straight and bold in front of him. And she could also not being as human as they first had thought.

-          Since when? The old man asked. Both frowned in front of him.

-          What is your question, exactly? Thranduil’s voice was dreamy as his fingers caressed the nape of her neck. He wanted to bite her and feel her skin shivering.

The wizard rolled his eyes and sighed.

-          Since when do you sleep together?

Lain turned her eyes to Thranduil and her hand caressed his back softly. He leaned to her to kiss, forgetting the wizard completely.

-          Stop that now! Barked Mithrandir.

They startled and looked at him, bewildered. Then Thranduil seems to understand and stiffened.

-          We better move back to my study.

 

 

                                                                                              ***

 

 

-          How could you be so thoughtless? Growled the wizard to the elf one more time.

The elf looked offended but didn’t answer.

For a moment now, the old man was grumbling and growling and pacing in front of them, commented aloud about them and him, and it was useless to argue with him. He was reproaching them the attraction to which they had yielded to, and to him the fact he didn’t have seen Lain as what she was. But he still hadn’t told what she could be.

 

Lain was sitting crossed legs near the window, silent and very still, her face sad and closed. She felt the elf avoiding her to touch since they were in his study, and even his eyes seemed to brush on her without seeing her. She felt rejected and lost, not knowing what she exactly had done so badly. She looked outside and thought of the blessing sun on her skin, only on hour ago. She wished to go back there.

 

Tired to pace, the wizard finally sat on a bench and filled his pipe.

Thranduil had chosen a comfy armchair before the hearth and waited, his face dark and upset. He didn’t like to be talked to like he was a fool or a child, and that was exactly what the wizard made him felt actually.

-          She could be a Temptress Fae. Muttered the wizard finally, glancing to the young woman lost in thoughts.

Thranduil narrowed his eyes.

-          A Fae! He hissed.

At his voice, Lain turned her head and pulled her knees on her chest, holding her legs tight in her arms. Her eyes were wide and questioning under the cold look of the elf. His anger was obvious, and once more, she didn’t understand why she was involved.

-          What’s a Fae, please? She asked gently to the wizard.

-          An ancient and powerful creature, my dear. He answered kindly but didn’t comfort her.

-          I have no power. She objected.

-          You draw memories. Said Thranduil drily while the old man lit his pipe.

-          I don’t know how. Is that a powerful skill? Her voice was bitter.

-          These memories are not yours. You can see in my mind. This is powerful. His voice was cold and his eyes icy.

-          But useless, no? What can we do with such drawings, huh? She shook her head.

-          You have seduced and bewitched the King of this realm. The wizard said softly.

She narrowed at him silently, then looked at the elf. His face was impassive, and his hands still on his lap. But his grey eyes boiled with anger.

-          I am not bewitched! He growled.

The blue eyes jumped on him.

-          Really? Mithrandir grinned. Can you stay away from her for two days, then?

Thranduil frowned and pouted.

-          Of course I can! Who do you think I am, Mithrandir? An elfling blown away by his first lover?! He stood up and strode to the door. Now you will excuse me, but I have things to do for this realm! He bowed to the wizard, then to Lain. I will see you in two days, then. I’ll send you attendants to help, of course. Mithrandir, I guess the court and I will have you for dinner.

He opened the door and dumped them in his study without another look.

 

 

                                                                                              ***

 

Lain wandered for a long time in the gardens this day, unable to eat or talk to anyone. She thought of what the wizard had said to them, and it hurt her. What if she was a Temptress Fae? A seducer, only meant to charm and… And what? What could she do then? She knew nothing of this realm, its politics, its neighborhood or anything useful. And what could be the purpose to seduce a King – was he really a king? She had thought of him as a Lord, but a king? – but to influence the course of events. What events? How did she get here, then? And why hadn’t she any memory of this? If she was to do something of this, it would be helpful to know why she was here then.

Her talking with the wizard had raised many questions, but no answers.

 

When the sun disappeared on the horizon, Lain was still sitting under the tree which had seen so many of her lovemaking with the elf Lord. She felt empty and lost. Stunned.

A nice elf attendant came then to lead her to her room and served her the evening meal, and she followed peacefully. She didn’t eat much, but went to drink some wine on the small terrace her room was provided with. The stars shone brightly, and it made her think of him. She missed him fiercely, and her body started to ache as her thoughts focused on him.

 

 

The King of Mirkwood had finally granted a dinner to his court, and what was more, he had the great Mithrandir as a guest. His courtesans were delighted to see them, and soon the wizard pleasured them with colorful tales of his many journeys. The elves of Mirkwood were curious to hear things, but tended to prefer the tales to their actual own knowledge. That was the burden of being so protected and isolated, thought the old man.

The meals and wines were delicate and plentiful, the music celestial and cheering, and the chat pleasant and lively. The terrace were the dinner had been dressed were lit by hundreds of tiny lamps, hanging from the branches of the roofing trees, dancing slowly in the soft breeze like fireflies. It created an unreal atmosphere like only elves could make look so natural. The wizard was impressed each time he had the opportunity to share dinner with them. Not to talk of the Lothlorien’s nights.

 

The evening stretched as the moon rose high in the starry sky, and Thranduil gradually scowled and kept silent, drinking his wine thoughtfully. The old wizard noticed it and turned to him at the end of his tale while laughs and comments burst around the table.

-          My Lord? He whispered to Thranduil. Are you well?

The elf frowned and nodded, annoyed.

-          I am. Though I feel to get some rest now.

He stood and bowed to the assembly. His silver robe rustled softly as he moved.

-          I thank you all for this delighting evening, and will take my leave now. Mithrandir, will you excuse me?

The wizard nodded and watched the King gracefully leave the terrace with a concerned look. He was no fool.

 

 

The night was a nightmare. When Lain fall asleep, she dreamed of him, of his touch and their lovemaking, then she awakened panting and realized she was dreaming, her body aching in need. She had drunk too much wine to subdue her mind, but it hadn’t last long. She finally chose to have a walk in the hanging gardens. There, she felt better than inside her room, so when she reached the far end of the higher level, where they had their habits now, she wrapped herself in a blanket and leaned on the trunk of a tree, and calmed down under the moonlight.

 

Thranduil was pacing in his room, unable to find the sleep either. His eyes were going from the bed to the terrace, to the table, to the chairs and everything he saw reminded him that they had made love here. And he wanted her badly.

It made him angry to think Mithrandir could be right. And frustrated not to have her now. He drunk wine, too much wine, but it didn’t make any difference. He seemed to be immune tonight. Surely he could stay away from her longer. He had a strong will and huge endurance. And a pride even huger.

 

The sun rose finally, to his great relief, and he hastily went to train himself with bow and swords.

Some of the sparring partners of the King had a hard time this morning. Usually known for his accuracy and control, he cut one at the arm and broke another one’s rib. Full of anger and shame, he left even more frustrated than before and almost ran to his study.

He wanted to break something, but knew it wouldn’t do any good.

Mithrandir was right. He had been bewitched, and he felt ashamed and angry. So painfully angry.

How could he have been trapped in this situation? Him, the great King of Mirkwood?!

And he couldn’t think of something else. He could only think of her. Lain.

He wanted to make her disappear and be relieved of this need, this weakness. But maybe he could.

Maybe he just had to kill her?


	11. Chapter 11

Lain opened her eyes in the sunlight and smiled. She felt tired but calm, thanks to the tree and the plants and the fresh air. All the forest seemed had cuddled her and comforted her during this gentle starry night. She now felt stronger. She could face this new day without seeing him, surely.

She rose and stretched, enjoying once more the amazing sight, the green canopy like a sea under her feet. She frowned. She could remember the image of a sea. She saw the emerald sea of trees and she saw the dark blue one of an ocean. She had a memory!

-         Lain!

She jumped and turned to see Thranduil striding hastily to her. Her heart twisted and she stopped to breath. He was so beautiful and wild, his messy hair lighted by the sun, his eyes fierce and full of anger.

-         You did this to me! He shouted at her. His eyes were burning with hate.

He drew his dagger and pointed it to her throat. She didn’t move, mesmerized by his look, unable to talk or think. He was all she desired right now, even if he was about to kill her. She had no doubt.

He kept the blade on her skin, ready to cut her throat and watch her die. His arm didn’t shake but his eyes couldn’t leave hers, and the frustration replaced the hate and the will to see her dead.

He suddenly threw the dagger away and grabbed her to kiss her violently, his hands holding her head in place, his tongue invaded her mouth fiercely, his teeth colliding hers, and his universe narrowed only to her tongue sliding on his, her teeth biting his lips, her mouth sucking his tongue feverishly and he pinned her to the trunk of the tree she had slept under. She whimpered in his mouth and he felt her hands on his neck, soft and fresh. He shivered and held her tighter.

-         Temptress! He hissed in her mouth.

She opened his coat and slid a hand under his shirt. He moaned and broke the kiss, enable to take both the sensations of her mouth and her hand on his skin. He growled at her and leaned on her to bite her neck hard. She cried out in pain then laughed wildly.

He kissed her back passionately, ignoring the taste of blood in his mouth, and they lost conscience again, all tongues and lips and teeth battling and swinging feverishly. They couldn’t get enough.

They managed to remove their clothes without breaking the kiss, hastily, roughly, tearing out when it was too long to open, and when he found her naked enough the elf forced her savagely, her back on the trunk, her legs tied around his hips. He held her wrists high above her head with one strong hand, his other clutched on her neck, and filled her mouth with his tongue as hardly as he filled her with his shaft. She welcomed his aggressive thrusts by rolling her hips widely, moaning in his mouth, eager to come for him, eager to make him come. He pushed and crashed into her deepest inner, making her cry. He pulled back and watched her fiercely. She was looking at him, panting, fever in her dark eyes.

-         More! She rasped. I want to cry for you.

He shivered and caressed her bottom lip with his thumb. His lips brushed her mouth roughly.

-         Then cry you will. He hissed.

He thrust into her harshly and smiled at her crying. He kissed her neck and licked her ear as he pulled out softly. She was whimpering. He was so hard and sweet in her she could die for him.

-         My sweet Lain. He whispered in her ear.

Then he pushed deeper into her and she cried louder. He paused again, gently caressing her face, and after a few more strokes of this game he decided to let go, and thrust her savagely, again and again, making her cry louder and louder, until they came violently, jolting and crying together while the pleasure overwhelm them.

The elf slid kneeled on the ground, shaking, freeing her wrists at last, and held her tight in his arms as they panted heavily.

She smiled blissfully, her head in his hair, her arms tied around his neck. Their sweats mixed on his skin and his scent intoxicated her. She licked him and shivered. His skin was so soft and good. And smelt of the forest.

She moved her head away and stared at him. His grey eyes were tormented and she could feel his anger lingered. He caressed her face and sighed, then brushed the bite he had left at the root of her neck. The blood was brightly red on her skin.

He was ashamed of his need of her, yet he was delighted to feel her lust for him. Was it so unnatural to want her so badly? Was it really a spell which bonded him to her? On what purpose could it be? He narrowed on her and wanted to hurt her to prove he was free of his will and could reject her as well as to possess her.

-         Thranduil? She said softly.

He shivered and closed his hand on her throat. She stiffened and breathed deep.

-         Do not talk to me! He growled.

Her eyes didn’t flicker and hook up to his quietly. How could she be so calm when he wanted to strangle her and be freed of her? She should be mad not to fear him.

He finally relaxed his hand and put his forehead on hers.

-         What have you done to me? He whispered.

-         Nothing you didn’t want I guess.

He looked at her serious look and nodded slightly. She then kissed him, languidly gliding her tongue in his mouth and caressing his chest with both her hands. He moaned as she brushed his nipples and broke the kiss to hold her wrists.

-         Stop! He ordered drily.

She looked at him defiantly.

-         You want me as much as I want you. She said.

-         I don’t want to need you like that.

She pouted.

-         It was not a problem yesterday.

-         Yesterday I didn’t know.

-         Know what? That I could be a Fae? To do what harm? Are you afraid of me now? Did I do something against you? Except giving you pleasure and comfort?

She looked upset and frustrated, and her eyes went scornful on him.

-         I am not afraid. He groaned.

He wanted to be in control. Not be ruled by his needs. Especially if these needs were to be guided by a spell. But he kept silence and freed her wrists.

She put her hands on her thighs very calmly. She was still sitting on his lap, her back straight and stiff, her chest and chin proudly raised. Her eyes softened then looked away.

-         I don’t know what I am. She murmured. I just know I need you the same way.

Bemused, he watched her move away from him and put her clothes on. She moved swiftly, and managed to dress quickly despite the damaged done on her clothes. Thranduil kept silent while getting dressed too. When he finished to button his coat up, she was already gone. He felt dizzy and sad, and went to the palace slowly.

 

 

                                                                                              ***

 

 

-         Now tell me how she could harm me? Asked Thranduil with an impatient tone.

The wizard frowned and cleared his throat before answering.

-         Well, to be honest, I’m not sure, my Lord.

The elf rolled his eyes and put down his glass on the round table of the library. Some parchments and open books Algarad had prepared laid on the table too. The old wizard had read them hastily while the elf paced the room in anger.

-         So, you’re pretending to warn me from something, someone, you don’t even know the nature?

-         It’s been a long time since we didn’t hear of Fae. And many rumors run about them.

-         Rumors! Thranduil narrowed on the old man. I thought you could help me on this matter. Not bring me rumors and tales! Tales I can read in these old parchments!

Mithrandir lit his pipe calmly and looked at the curls of smoke drawing patterns in the air. The temper of the elf didn’t bother him much. What bothered him was the fact he really ignored how this Fae, for he now was almost certain of her nature, could interfere in the destiny of Thranduil. So many things were told about this ancient tribe.

-         I first thought of a soothsayer. Said the elf more calmly. But she only drew my past, not my future. What is it to understand there, Mithrandir? Knowing my past is useless, right?

-         Perhaps. Answered the old man thoughtfully.

He caressed his bear and stared at the elf.

-         You couldn’t bear not to see her two days, then.

A flash of anger lighted the eyes of Thranduil.

-         As it could be with any fresh lovers! Retorted Thranduil.

They stared at each other, knowing well of the bad faith of the king.

-         Have you thought of…hem…your…fertility?

The elf opened wide eyes.

-         What?

-         Could she be with child?

-         Mithrandir! I’m far too old! Answered the elf lord, bemused.

-         Perhaps. Perhaps not.

Thranduil stayed still and silent for a long time, trying to apprehend the meaning of the wizard’s words.

He felt mistrust seep into his mind and heart, freezing his blood and stomach. Could he have been so blind? So manipulated? Could he have been a simple toy? Could she have been so false and pervert? Could he have been so wrong? What could be the purpose of this manipulation, then?

 

-         I tried to kill her. Said Thranduil, drily.

-         What? No! Mithrandir exclaimed.

The elf raised an elbow in surprise.

-         It could have been a deadly move, my Lord.

-         I wanted to be freed of…her.

-         You wouldn’t have been, I’m afraid. Only doomed to suffer endlessly, without relief, for what would have disappeared with her.

Thranduil shivered silently.

-         I see. Well, it’s happy, then, that I couldn’t. He smiled bitterly and had a sip of wine.

-         What if you were wrong, Mithrandir? He asked softly. What if she wasn’t what you suspect she is?

The wizard smoked on his pipe calmly before answering.

-         How do you explain her drawing skill, then?

Thranduil frowned.

-         I don’t. That is why I asked you to come first.

-         Well, my Lord, this is my answer. And I know that this skill can’t be her only one. He looked at the tense face of the elf. I’m sorry.

 

The silence fell over them once more, heavily, and the grey eyes of the elf got lost into dark thoughts. The wizard could feel the weariness of the elf and sensed sadness himself.

He had trusted the Elvenking to manage the situation when the young woman had been found, for he was known for his distrust and natural suspicion. He had never expected that the proud and cold elf would be attracted by her. Or that she was so powerful to charm him. He hadn’t detected her power before. And even now, he didn’t feel it.

-         One thing, though. The wizard said reluctantly.

The grey eyes focused on him narrowly.

-         What?

-         She may be honest. She may be a Fae with powerful skills, but really ignore it. She may be with no memory at all.

The elf felt his anger eased a little. Could it be that she was not a liar, after all, not a traitor, and he was not a complete fool?

-         If that is true, I would say the Hand of Fate is playing a tricky game with us. He smiled wryly.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading. I feel honored by your kudos. Over 100, wow.   
> *bowing*


	12. Chapter 12

 

After leaving Thranduil, she had walked directly to her room to get her drawing stuff and change her damaged clothes, and had hurried through the hallways of the palace, taking stairs and small corridors hastily, almost running, halting in the shadows suddenly to check if there was a guard on her path. She felt relieved when no one came after her and went further in the labyrinth of the corridors she began to know well now.

She was sad and upset, she wanted to be alone, and she knew the perfect place for that.

She got to the aisle of the palace where laid the stables and sneaked in one of the empty ones, climbed the ladder which led to the storage level and installed herself comfortably in the back of the haystacks, near a small opening. There, still holding tight her drawing stuff, she closed her eyes and breathed deeply.

The image of the sea danced in her head, mixed with the pleasure she had with Thranduil, and his anger, his violence, everything muddled up, joy and sadness, pain and pleasure, how she had enjoyed his fierce embrace, the taste of her blood in his mouth, how he had came loudly, and once again the hatred in his eyes. She caressed her neck to feel the wound made by his teeth. He had marked her.

She shivered and took a sheet of paper and a pencil. Her eyes opened but saw nothing then.

 

 ***

For hours now, Thranduil had sent few of his most trusted guards to look for her. Without any result. No one had seen her. She hadn’t tried to pass the gates either, and that was a relief. But she was nowhere to be found, for now, and the palace was huge and full of possibility to hide.

The elf felt tired and tense, unable to sleep, unable to think of something else but her, and the issue he had to face. After the talk with Mithrandir, he had spent the day in his study, cancelling his meetings, then had retired in his room early. He wanted to be alone and think.

At the end of the day, when she didn’t come back, he had sent the guards.

If she wanted to be found, she would have gone to the gardens. So, she was hiding. From him. From his anger, from his grip, from his threat. Of course. Why wouldn’t she? He had been rough and venomous to her.

He shivered. The need of her was increasing, slowly but surely. Or perhaps he sensed this way because he knew now of this need?

He hated the feeling of being trapped in this situation. Two days ago, he was enjoying their meetings and the sex with her, freely, carefree, and now that Mithrandir had spoken to him, everything turned bitter and twisted. Strange how an opinion could influence everything one felt.

He sighed and took a sip of wine without enjoying its taste. Habit.

 

 ***

When she woke up, she laid in the dark, thirsty and sore, her head painful. She felt dizzy, she quivered. She moved to the small opening to breath fresh air, and saw the stars in the sky. The night seemed peaceful and quiet.

She didn’t know what to do next. She had not thinking while coming here, she had followed her instinct, as always, and now she felt lost. Totally. Her instinct was silent. Traitorous.

She shivered and collected the drawings around her, put them in the folder and held it tight on her chest. She then curled up in the hay and tried to think of something wise to do, ignoring the pulsing pain in her head. Maybe she could run away, and get lost in the forest where she was sure to die. Maybe she could hide here and steal what she needed to live and…stay in a stable until what? Maybe she could go back to the wizard and ask him to help her bring her memory back, and see what would come of that?

She soon fell asleep without noticing.

 

 ***

Thirst. Fever. Shiver. His lips were paper and dust, his tongue inflated. His heart was racing and he was cold, sweat gliding in his back and he smelt dust and hay. His head was pulsing painfully and his neck was sore, as was all his body. He was trembling and his teeth were chattering, which caused more pain to his head. He didn’t know where he was, but the smell was soft and there was cool air from an opening. He felt something on his chest, his hands clutched on it, but couldn’t remember what it was.

He suddenly opened his eyes and all faded.

He has fell asleep in an armchair of his room, his empty glass of wine in hand. Disorientation didn’t last and, once recollecting the pieces of the dream together, he knew.

She was the one with fever and pain. Not he. And he had a good guess of where she was.

 

 ***

She felt fresh hands on her face and shivered violently. She moaned and tried to ignore the sensation. She didn’t want to wake up and remember the loneliness and the sorrow that surrendered her earlier. She wanted to sink back in the darkness but these hands didn’t stop to touch her and made her shiver again.

-          Open your eyes.

A sweet voice, velvet or silk. Her stomach knotted. She knew this voice, of course. His.

-          Lain, open your eyes.

She obeyed and tried to focus. He was calling her. Was she Lain? Since when? She frowned as the name she wanted to tell slipped in her inner mind. She whimpered softly.

Strong hands lifted her, she closed her eyes back, and she felt her body clung on his. Too hot. She grabbed her leather folder tighter while she curled in his arms. She felt giddy and sick and she didn’t want to puke.

Thranduil looked at her and his heart ached. She was so light and small in his embrace he could hardly imagine she was the same woman he fucked so roughly earlier. He could have broken her it seems to him now.

 

The lord elf went straight to the head of healers rooms with his small burden. He laid her on a guest bed and woke up the healer quickly, made her hurry without explaining. The eyes puffy by the sleep she had been suddenly pulled from, the elf didn’t ask her king about the curled human on the bed, simply nodded and began to examine her. She freed the leather folder from Lain’s grip, pushed it aside, put softly her hands all over her body, palpating and listening carefully to her breathing, then shook her head gently.

-          Fever and dehydration, nothing more, but we need to cool her. Humans can die with strong fever, you know. Her voice was warm and quiet, reassuring. Would you help me, my Lord? I need cold water, from the spring. She showed him a huge wood bucket.

Thranduil stiffened and finally agreed with a nod and went out.

 

The healer boiled water and prepared herbs to infuse, then undressed the human who moaned softly. Her reddish skin was burning and sweaty. She opened her eyes slightly, didn’t manage to focus on anything and sighed. The soft and fresh hand of the healer cooled her forehead, and she whispered gently some elvish words in her ears. The human seemed to react, but not calm as it should have been.

 

When Thranduil came back, the perfume of the infusion of plants filled the air and the healer was trying to hydrate a confused Lain. The young woman quivered and mumbled, her hands shaking, her eyes unfocused.

-          Put these linens in the water, please. Said the healer softly. The elf lord obeyed swiftly.

The healer then put the icy linen all over the body of Lain who whimpered.

-          I will make her drink this, my Lord, while you change the linen, we must keep her cool as long as the fever doesn’t lower.

Thranduil nodded and did what he was told.

He felt overwhelmed by his feelings. The physical need of her was still vivid. When he watched her shivering naked body, as weird as it was, he wanted to hold her and kiss her, when he should have been only concerned by her health. He could touch her and caress her while he was changing the cold linen, he did, and it eased the sensation of hunger, but he wanted more, and he knew this wasn’t natural at all. He certainly didn’t want her to disappear, however. Not after the relief he felt now.

 

After a time that seemed longer than it was, Lain stopped to tremble and didn’t moan either. Her breathing eased and when he caressed her face once more with a fresh linen, she opened her eyes and seemed to see him. Her dark look stared at him, she kept silent. He felt dizzy but didn’t break eye contact until the healer pushed him softly, removed the wet linens and massaged her whole body with soft oil.

-          Put her in this dry bed, my Lord. She said, showing another one. Fever is under control, now.

He lifted her gently, his eyes lingered on her naked body, she was more muscular and well defined shaped than elvish women and he liked it, but he contained his thoughts and his desire. The healer was looking at him intently, trying to hide her disapproval as best as possible.

He put a blanket on Lain, she was still staring at him with deep and feverish look. He caressed her neck with his knuckles. She grabbed his hand with both hers, curled up and closed her eyes. He stayed still, almost breathless.

The healer applied an ointment on the bite in the neck of Lain, frowning slightly on her king. He stiffened but didn’t look away. He had no reason to be ashamed. Nor to justify.

The elf, without a word, brought him a chair and he sat, silent as well.

-          You wake me if something happened, my lord. But I think she’ll be all right.

He nodded as she went back to her room. Dawn was almost there, but a small rest was better than none.

He felt Lain’s grip relaxed on his hand, and her breathing deepened as she fell asleep.

He, though, didn’t sleep that night.

 

 

                                                                                              ***

 

 

The fever was totally broken when the healer checked early in the morning. Lain was still asleep. Thranduil left a short moment after she entered the room, asking her to update him later. He looked tired and tensed, but she said nothing, only proposing him an infusion which he refused politely.

He went directly to clean up and have an icy bath, trying to recompose his balance and prepare himself for his duties day. He had failed to clear his head during the night, unable to concentrate or focus, and right now his thoughts lingered to old memories Lain had brought back the previous days with her drawings. He felt the emotions overwhelmed him. He could have cried if he didn’t have the strong habit to restrain his tears for so long now. He was told tears were weakness.

 

After his morning’s routine, he quickly ate in his study, avoided the ones wanting to speak him about futilities, and discreetly rushed to the healers rooms. The news he had from the healer were good, but he couldn’t wait more to check by himself on Lain.

Pale and tousled, dressed in a white and wide shirt, she was sitting in the bed, eating conscientiously some porridge with fresh fruits the healer had made prepared for her and insisted her to eat entirely. She felt famished but so weak and dizzy it was an effort to eat. She managed to do it though. A hot pot of infusion was waiting for her to drink on the small table nearby.

The door opened suddenly and Thranduil came in. He paused and his eyes brightened at her sight. Breathless, she stared at him. A simple but beautiful pine green high collar coat, embroidered with dark silver patterns, black pants and boots perfectly fitted his body. He looked glorious, his perfectly combed silver hair falling on his broad shoulders. She noticed his drawn features though, then her eyes lingered on his half-open lips and her belly twisted.

He stepped to her and sat on the edge of the bed. She felt ashamed, unclean, sick and weak, possibly stinky. But she straightened and raised her chin fondly. She frowned as he caressed her cheek gently.

-          I got sick you know. She said.

-          I know. His voice was soft.

-          I stink, I’m sorry.

He shrugged.

-          I don’t care.

-          I’m a mess though.

-          You’re not.

She saw his eyes darken as they stayed in her lips and she flushed lightly. Her body trembled but she tried to hide it. She looked away. He was too silent and serious and she wanted him so badly that it hurt. She wouldn’t move though. He had made it clear enough the last time they have seen each other.

The healer entered the room, giving her a welcome break as she spoke to her king. The human was to rest and regain strength for few days, but was perfectly safe, although she still ignored where the fever came from. But human species was not her heal specialty yet. Thranduil nodded on her speech, but all the time his eyes remained on Lain.

When the elf went out of the room, after an insistent look on her king, he sat back and bent on Lain slowly.

She felt his warm breath on her face and had to close her eyes, dizzy. When she opened them back, he was still pausing a few inches away from her, his deep grey eyes waiting for hers, his lips half open. He was short breathing, delaying his kiss, wanting her assent to go further. Her lips opened slightly and her heart jumped when his mouth brushed hers softly. His lips were warm and soft, caressing, his breath hot and when he slid his tongue in her mouth, gently invaded her, she thought she could stop breathing with pleasure. His kiss was deep and sensual, his tongue exploring her mouth gently, gliding languidly onto hers, intoxicated by her touch as she was by his. For a long time, they were only tongues and teeth, smoothly nipping and teasing lips, his fingers only brushing lightly her neck and face. They have never kissed so lovingly before. She moaned in his mouth when he caressed her breasts and she held his neck to pull him closer.

He then broke the kiss, holding her face softly, looked her in the eyes and sighed deeply.

-          You must rest. He said.

-          I know. She answered reluctantly. Yet she knew she couldn’t last much longer awake.

-          You will rest then.

He kissed her briefly but fiercely, and straightened.

-          You don’t want to kill me anymore, so? She mumbled while curling up under the blanket. Her eyelids were already closing, heavy .

-          I don’t. He looked sad and serious.

-          Good. She whispered. I think I want to live longer.

He leaned on her to caress her head lightly.

-          I know. He said. And smiled slightly. I know…

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there ! I'm not sure to be able to post next week ( it appears sunday is my day, now ), so I apologize in advance. I'll try anyway !  
> See you soon.

 

 

 

Thranduil had chosen to mount one of the youngest stallion his horse master had trained lately and invited him to try, and rose as fast as possible through the deepest of his forest, avoiding skillfully the lowest branches and the thorny bushes that tried to scratch them. The horse really was a wonder, it matched perfectly his rider, and it took him a while to slow down, caught up in the wind of speed and the freedom that made him feel. When the elf finally chose to stop, they were far away from the palace, but near a place he knew well.

A perfect place to think and be alone.

He unseated and let the beautiful horse enjoy the grass along the stream he halted, while he walked to the waterfall he used to come with his son. So long ago now.

After plunging his hands in the cold water and refreshing his face, he sat on the bank and leaned his back on a mossy rock. The waterfall noise was invading but soothing. The scent of the plants and water intoxicating, and the strength of the trees around seemed to spread under the soil, back to him. The sand and grass scraped under his hands flat on the ground. Connected to his wild land, he sighed and freed his mind.

He missed his son. For months now, he silently waited for news from him, worried for his safety and well-being, and the sadness was heavier from day to day.

Until Lain, that was.

The truth was since she was his, he had hope again. To see his son again. To let him know his love for him. To ask his forgiveness. To talk to him as he had never done. As his own father never did either. He should have been a better father, he knew that for long, but he couldn’t change the past. Perhaps the present and future he could, yet.

He didn’t know how she had managed to give him this kind of hope, but he knew it was her.

 

He felt anger rise in his mind and deep breathed to sooth it. Anger was a habit to him. A way to muzzle his thoughts, his emotions. Anger was the answer, his cuddling friend, his poison too.

Now was not the time to anger, but think and feel clearly and honestly.

 

He clutched his fits on the soil and breathed.

The thought of her aroused him painfully. The shape of her mouth, the feeling of her skin under his touch, the taste of her sex. He growled. He needed her distressingly.

He hated the thought of his need of her. He hated not to control his emotions.

But he couldn’t deny it. He could tempest and fume, the truth was he couldn’t stay away from her.

Because he liked the way he felt appeased with her. Because she appeased him deeply.

The way she brought him old memories and bittersweet images, then forgetting in her arms, the way he felt healed when he woke up each morning on her side. It seemed unreal, but still. She was good for him.

He didn’t know if he was any good for her, though.

She asked nothing except his lovemaking, he seemed to please and satisfy her, but what was he to give her in return? He felt vaguely ashamed of his anger and his violence to her. He had been rough and harsh, resentful, which was not his habit, even if he could be hard in his lovemaking, and she had enjoyed that, wildly, voraciously, as if she was connected and fed by his own violence, his own pleasure.

He leaned his head back and gazed at the high branches above him. The sky was barely visible between them. He closed his eyes and sighed.

He had to talk to her.

He also had to stop avoiding Mithrandir and face him honestly.

 

 

The afternoon was fading when Thranduil entered the palace at full gallop, the guards puzzled at the sight of their impressive and beautiful Lord. He seemed to glow, and his proud demeanor was commanding respect, more than ever. As if he was to fight, some wild life possessed him, and his look, known for his coldness, shone fiery. Everyone bowed deeper than usual this day, as he strode his way to the higher levels.

He rushed from the stables without changing his riding clothes, asked his attendants for Dorwinion wine and send them pray Mithrandir to come to him, then waited in the private garden of his study.

When the wizard met him, he was drinking his second glass of wine – wine did come faster than wizard it seemed. He poured a glass for the old man and invited him to seat near him.

-          I wish to apologize, Mithrandir.

The wizard raised his eyebrows.

-          What for my Lord? He asked softly.

-          For avoiding you since yesterday.

The wizard nodded and took a sip from his glass, narrowing on the courteous elf. Thranduil used to be courteous, certainly, but it was not of his habits to apologize for his behavior.

-          I asked you to come to look at these drawings and explain me, if you could, what they were supposed to mean and how this human could do them. Thranduil said.

He stared intently at the old man.

-          And so you did. He paused. Partly. You think the human is not human, but Fae. You can’t explain the drawings, though. I hear that. And I hear your warnings too.

He inclined his head in a slight bow.

-          Anyway, I freely chose now to not listen to your warnings. His voice was soft but determined.

Mithrandir filled his pipe, as he often did when he needed to think before talking, and cleared his throat. His blue eyes met the grey light ones of the elf lord.

-          My Lord, I will respect your choice. You asked for me, and I am of little help. Maybe Elrond could… He hesitated.

-          I will not ask Elrond. Thranduil said sternly.

The wizard bowed.

-          In fact, I won’t ask anyone. I don’t need anyone. I maybe under a spell, perhaps hers, but she is too. It made us no enemies, but allies. And I would know if she lied. She did not.

The elf spoke fiercely, not trying to convince the wizard, but certain of what he advanced.

-          Whatever this situation is going to bring me, I will live this to the full. For I’m tired to avoid threat and menace. I am strong enough to affront anything. Even a Fae. Whoever she is. If my fate is to fall, so be it.

He stared at the wizard and waited for him to talk. The old man took his time to relish his pipe, then took a sip of wine, and finally smiled.

-          My Lord Thranduil, I think you are right.

The elf raised an eyebrow, surprised by the wizard’s approval.

-          Even if she’s of any threat to you, you’ll deal with that in time. And I believe you are a powerful enough elf to manage whatever would, or could happen. In fact, I’m happy to hear you reminding it to me. For so long you and your realm have been reclusive and mistrustful that I forgot about your power and greatness. But you are. You are one of the most powerful Elf living in Middle-Earth, and we have forgotten it. As you have. For too long. You are more than you’re used yourself to be. And it’s time for you to remember who you are, Thranduil.

The elf lord didn’t reply, frowning thoughtfully at the wizard words.

He raised his glass and drank slowly.

-          I didn’t look for your approval, Mithrandir. He finally said. Despite the criticism of my careful – and justifiable - behavior, I will remember your words for the valuable trust, respect and friendship they expressed.

He bowed slightly, closing his eyes briefly. When he opened them back, his look was more sharp and clear than ever.

 

                                                                                              ***

 

Lain had slept all day, only awaken to eat, drink, relieve her natural needs and, exhausted, fall asleep again. When she opened her eyes once more, it was night, and she was not in the healer rooms anymore. She first thought she was mistaken, unable to remember clearly the past events, but soon she recognized the sophisticated decoration she had seen in her previous room, and Thranduil’s too. Yet, it was neither his or hers.

She sat and took a sip from the glass of water on the bedside table. She still felt weak, but quite better than previously, and she didn’t feel like sleeping in the five minutes to come either. She got up and slipped into a robe left on the bed, undoubtedly for her. The fabric was soft and warm, bright green-blue, with a delicate vegetal pattern, and at her size. The wood floor was warm and soft under her bare feet, as she walked cautiously, a little unsteady. She opened the curtains and the windows and smiled as she got outside on the small balcony. It was as high as she knew Thranduil’s room should be, not far, surely. The fresh air and smell of the trees fed her instantly. She loved this forest so deeply.

She shivered when another scent emerged, very similar, warmer, soft and intoxicating, and she knew he was behind her.

-          You’re here. She murmured.

She felt his breath on the nape of her neck, then his voice, soft and caressing.

-          You’re awake.

She leaned on his broad chest and he closed his arms around her, kissing her head lightly. They stayed silent and still for long minutes, reveling in the moment. The heat inside her increased when he kissed her ear softly, licking the shell delicately.

She broke the embrace and turned to face him. She shook her head gently.

-          I need to clean myself, first of all.

-          I will attend you. If you want me to.

She bowed, took the hand he held out to her and followed him, still cautious in her moves.

-          Where are we? She asked as he opened a door to let her go.

-          The room next to mine. This door leads to my house bath, which you know well. The other one will lead you to the corridor, across from my own door.

-          How convenient. She said, teasing.

-          Indeed. He squeezed her hand softly.

They walked slowly to the house bath, he taking care of her, feeling her weakness although she didn’t show it.

After removing her robe, he had her sit on a small stool of wood, in front of two buckets of clean hot water and began to clean her, gently, as he would have to a child. She looked a little embarrassed, but seduced as well, and felt grateful for not having to do it herself. He scrubbed her from feet to head with cleansing oil and soft fabric, carefully washing her short golden hair, then rinsed her out with clear water, and lifted her to finally plunge her in a warm bath. She moaned with pleasure and closed her eyes as his hands lingered on her shoulders.

-          It’s so good. She whispered. You should join me.

-          I already bathed. Enjoy yourself. He caressed her head softy, breathing in her ear, kissing her lightly in the neck.

She hummed as she relaxed herself in his hands and mouth, and fall asleep shortly after that.

 

She woke up in his arms, on their way back. She blinked lazily.

-          I’m sorry, I’m so tired. She said.

-          You had fever. Serious one. That’s why. His voice was soft and understanding.

She nodded and put her head on his chest. She listened to his heart beating, regular and loud, and quivered lightly.

-          Are you cold? He seemed concerned.

-          No. It’s just… You.

He stopped and looked at her. Their eyes deepened on each other.

-          You’re coming to my room. He said in a low voice. Neither a question or an order.

-          Yes.

She wrapped her arms around his neck as he quickened his stride.

 

He laid her on the bed, her head on a pillow, and removed his clothes, looking at her the whole time. She swallowed hard when he came to her, proudly naked, his eyes glimmering, his sex hard and glorious already. Lying at her side, he bent on her, she slid a hand from his wrist to his shoulder, felt his strong muscles tense under his soft, warm skin, his grey look deepening on hers. He kissed her softly in the neck - butterflies swung in her stomach, then his fingers caressed her face gently, his thumb brushing her lips, his lips lightly kissed her eyelids, her cheeks, her chin, and finally touched her lips slowly. His long hair made silver falls around them.

Her mouth opened, his tongue played with her lower lip, opened it wider, played with her higher lip, brushed her teeth, licked her lips again, she tried to kiss him but he refused her, teasing her with his tongue and teeth until she offered him her mouth wide open in a silent plea. He then engulfed her, sucking her tongue deeply, passionately, languidly, making her moan in his mouth.

He delighted in her sensual moan, kissed her again voraciously, and left her short of breath as he went to her neck, tracing a path of light kisses and sweet nips to her collarbone, her chest – he opened her robe gently – her small breasts, where he took his time teasing her, licking and nipping her nipples. Moving to her navel, his mouth brushed her skin along her flat stomach, his tongue playfully licking, while his hands caressed her hips softly.

She hummed when his mouth brushed her sex hair, his hot breath burning her already. He positioned his head between her legs and his tongue slid in her lips, exploring her sex very slowly, tasting her wetness, gliding boldly in her. He found her hot and so ready for his lust, her scent sweet and intoxicating. She shivered when his fingers opened her lips kindly, and his tongue licked her clit languidly, softly, teasingly. His mouth kissed her, nipped her clit lightly, and sucked it acutely as he slid his fingers in her inner sex. He felt her tense and quiver with pleasure, and stroked her, in and out, finding the pace and the sensitive spot she reveled in. She rolled her hips to meet his stroke, very slightly, torn between his fingers and his tongue, wanting both equally.

When he felt her on the edge, he paused and breathed on her to cool her, licking her softly to appease her, or tease her again, she couldn’t say now, then turned her over swiftly to lay her on her belly. He caressed her buttocks gently, kissed them and glided his tongue between them, following her natural path to her inner sex. She arched her back when she felt his tongue, and he took advantage to slide his hand under her, finding back her clitoris.

He stroked her with nimble fingers, making her arched even more, while he moved upon her, his legs on each side of hers, placed his hard erection at her entrance. He penetrated her barely – she moaned softly - then pulled out. She was so wet he could possess her in one thrust for sure. He caressed her back to relax her, kissed her shoulders lightly, and took her wrists in one hand on top of her head, his other hand still stroking her clit softly.

He wanted her tight, legs as closed as possible, her belly flat on the bed. He pushed his sex into her a little more and pulled out, nipped her neck, and pushed again lightly. She tried to move to feel him deeper but couldn’t. He chuckled.

-          Stop playing with me, Thranduil. She said, moaning as he pulled out and paused once more, stroking her clit instead of penetrate her.

-          I like to play with you. He whispered in her ear.

She whimpered. She felt the head of his shaft, hot and hard, she wanted him to impale her and possess her deep.

-          I want your pleasure, Lain. He said as he stroked her once again without satisfy her plainly.

She whined.

-          My pleasure is you taking me…

He pushed a little further in her, stroked her clit the same pace.

-          Like that? He asked, enjoying the sound of her short breathing.

-          More! I want more… She gasped. I want all of you.

She arched once more under his fingers, he let her relax, then he pushed in her a little more and moved back, once, twice, thrice, she panted, her fists clutched on the sheets, waited for him, loose in his grip, lost in his will.

-          I want you. She repeated very softly.

He smiled and kissed the nape of her neck, and filled her in one deep push – she cried of pleasure as he bumped in her inner part. He delayed to feel her tightness around him, reveled by the sensation, then moved back slowly. He paused at her entrance, waited until she quivered and whimpered, and penetrated her again, widely, harder. She cried with pleasure again. He moved slowly in her, out and in, reveling of her, so soft and so hot, and, unable to delay anymore, lost in her moans and his own, he increased his pace, rocking into her hard and deep, heavy panting in her neck, while his hand stroked her clit the same rhythm. He groaned louder as he came closer to his climax and when he felt her first jolt of pleasure, her inner sex tightening around him, he let go and came wildly in her, shaken by the same jerks of pleasure.

When the shakes calmed down, the elf laid down next to her, her back on his chest, her wrists still in his grip, his nose in her neck, breathing her, kissing her, caressing her hip with his other hand, humming softly in her ear. She sighed and cuddled up to his body. She felt warm and delightfully well, exhausted but so good. She felt like she belonged here. Totally.

He listened to her breathing softened, pulled the sheets and blanket to them and he fall asleep too. Peaceful.


	14. Chapter 14

The morning sun found them legs entwined, clung to each other, the elf’s arms protectively wrapped around the smaller body of his lover.

He opened his eyes and inhaled her scent softly, caressed her rounded ear and behind, where the skin was so sweet, and immediately wanted to make love to her. He brushed her tousled hair and kissed her gently in the nape of her neck. She smelt of wood and sugar. She hummed in his arms, still asleep.

The thirst for her, coming with an equally constant energy, and the sensation of her naked body clung to his finished to wake him up. He deep breathed to calm down, his sex already hardened. He rolled his hips to feel her, and caressed her leg, from her knee to her hip, her flat stomach, her inner thighs.

She groaned softly, almost grumbling, but her legs opened to let him slide his hand further. While his mouth caressed her ear and neck, licking and nipping her sweet skin, he took advantage of her open legs and glided a finger in her moistened slit, very softly, stroked her gently, from her entrance to her clit. She hummed and arched slowly, her buttocks clanging to his sex, erected behind her thighs. He moaned and nipped her shoulder.

She half opened her eyes and smiled.

-          Thranduil. She whispered.

He continued to stroke her.

-          Do you want me to stop? He asked in a low voice.

She arched and moaned softly as he caressed her most sensible part gently.

-          Do not dare to stop now.

He chuckled. Then drew small circles around her clitoris, enjoyed the sound of her humming, stroked her slowly until she was totally wet and yearned for more of him. He entered two fingers in her, gently, she gasped, pressed her clit on his hand and rubbed on it, breathing hard as his fingers stroked her deeper. She turned her head to find his mouth and kissed him languidly, her tongue both enterprising and demanding.

He answered her kiss frantically and delighted to feel her entire body twisted and responding so innately to his touch. The bond between them was so physical, as if they could connect to each other’s sensations and satisfy them instinctively.

Still laying on her side, she twisted to grab his shaft and stroke him, softly first, then harder as he groaned in her mouth, and they caressed each other languorously, forgetting to kiss, forgetting to breathe, lost in the sensual arousal of their strokes.

She finally arched and guided his length to her sex. The sight of the small of the back offered to his push excited him deeply, he penetrated her, filling her entirely, moaning as he felt her inner softness so tight around him. He caressed her clitoris, she whined and arched even more, allowing him to enter deeper into her.

He gripped her hair and pulled her to his mouth, invaded her with a fierce tongue - possessing and filling her sex and mouth all together - then began to move into her, slowly, widely, stroking her clit the same pace, intoxicated with the sound of her moans and erratic breathings.

Enamored by her ease to welcome his lust of her, bewitched by her own lust of him, he thrust into her faster, her arched back welcoming him, offering her sex to his deep strokes. Still twisted to watch him, her eyes blurred, he felt her body totally loose and open to him, her sex greeting him, as hard and deep he would be, and he got lost in her for long, wide, intense thrusts, as he got lost in her mouth.

They closed their eyes, their breaths ran short and heavy in each other’s mouth, then focused only on the inner pleasure that increased and drove them over the edge. She came suddenly, him deep into her, her inner sex clenching around him, moaning and shaken by her climax and his strong thrusts, both from his nimble fingers and his hard shaft, and he came too, overwhelmed by the pleasure they shared.

They stayed still, deep breathing, their sweaty bodies relaxing slowly, and the elf finally spooned his human lover, his head in her neck, breathing her, feeling her, accepting his obvious sense of well-being with her, accepting her in his life.

 

After a long time resting cuddled up with her, he kissed her in the neck, softly brushing the biting mark he had done her two days ago, then her jaw and cheek. She hardly react, exhausted by their love-making, unable to wake up totally. He got up, swiftly draped his muscular body in a dark green robe and went to the diner room, contiguous with his bedroom, where he found food and drink for breaking his fast. He was later than usual but didn’t mind to drink cold infusion.

He called his attendant, ready to serve in the next room, and told him to fetch Lain’s breakfast and the healer to check on her when she would woke up, then went to his training session with a lighter heart than the days before.

 

When Thranduil came back to his chambers, after his usual bath and changing of clothes, he found Lain woke up, fully dressed with new garments an attendant had brought her, black leggings, boots and dark red tunic which fitted perfectly her slim figure. She was sitting on a floral carpet, many drawings scattered over the floor, her eyes widened and her face serious. Her eyes went on him when he entered the room and he felt her on the verge of tears.

He frowned and quickened to her, kneeled in front of her, cupped her face in his hands.

-          What is it?

She looked at him intently, her dark look full of questions and confusion. She shook her head silently. He examined the drawings on the floor, landscapes of sea, port town and ships, faces of people he didn’t know, trees bent by the wind, wild cliffs and heavy rocks, but he recognized nothing at all.

-          What are they? He asked softly. To whom?

Her pupils widened and she breathed deep before answering.

-          Mine. She said. They are mine.

The elf scrutinized her, startled by her confused expression.

-          What’s bothering you then? Shouldn’t you be glad to remember something at last?

-          They don’t match with my mind. She answered with a weary voice.

-          What do you mean?

She sighed and closed her eyes briefly.

-          I mean, I know they’re my memories, some places I saw once, or know well, I can see them in my head, smell the scent of the sea, sand, spices, and trees. But I can’t connect them together. There’s nothing between them. Empty spaces, that’s all my mind is filled with. She paused and looked at him. I’m an empty space.

The suffering of her voice oppressed his heart. He pulled her to him and held her tight on his chest, stroking her hair softly, whispering elvish words in her ear. She stayed still and stiff first, but after a while wrapped her arms around him and accepted his comfort. She closed her eyes and sighed, appeased by his scent, wood and herbs mixed, his skin always reminded her of the deep forest all around the palace.

-          These are the ones I drew that night in the stable, she said finally, straightening to see his face.

-          The night you got fever. Replied simply Thranduil.

She nodded.

-          You didn’t have a look on them when I was asleep. She observed. It surprised her. She thought he would have been inquisitive about them.

-          I needed not. They are just drawings, pictures, sketches on sheets.

-          You don’t care of their meaning anymore. She still didn’t question him.

-          I don’t.

He got up, went to the table and poured a glass of fresh water. She followed him slowly, narrowing on him. He handed her a glass and poured another one for himself. She drank slowly.

-          Did the healer come to check you?

-          Yes. She said evenly. Had a bitter infusion to drink, and too much food I could eat. She said I’m definitely all right now. A little weak, that’s all. She paused and cocked her head to the elf. Thranduil, why don’t you care of my drawings anymore? What did Mithrandir tell you?

The elf stiffened, stared at her and smiled slightly.

-          He had nothing to tell me that I couldn’t see by myself. That I should have. You’re a Fae. A lost one, for sure, but a Fae nonetheless. And your skills… He pooled into her eyes, dark and clear. I don’t care what you may be or may do, Lain. He added.

-          You were so angry about being tied to me. Your need of me.

He nodded.

-          I was. I am.

She raised her chin and narrowed at him boldly.

-          Will you bite me again for that?

-          Only if you ask me to.

-          I may be. She had a mischievous smile as his pupils dilated.

She stepped then and stared at him seriously. He could see distress dancing in her eyes, confusion and dismay. He cupped her cheek gently and leaned to her.

-          You’re not an empty space, Lain. He said softly. His lips brushed her lips. You make me feel more alive than I had felt for ages. No empty space can do that.

-          What if it’s only a trick of Fae? She whispered on his mouth, her eyes half closed already, her body tense, yearning to clang to his.

-          I don’t care. His breathing shortened on her lips. I take the life where it is. He held her face with both his hands. I take you, Lain.

She grabbed his neck and they kissed slowly, ardently, lovingly.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter to restart this story.  
> I'm afraid it's a rough one, so please excuse my mistakes.  
> Time is flying, so sorry for this long silence.

 

            

                Mithrandir departed at dawn the next day. He had taken his leave from Thranduil with a late supper during which they had talked about strange rumors running through lands where the old wizard had travelled lately. After rummaging hours in the library with the young Argalad, taking notes and mumbling, the old wizard had decided he should go and take care of other matters than the Elvenking’s love story, even if it was an enchanted one. He had warned the king about the Fae, he couldn’t do more for him.

 

                In fact, the Elvenking could not care less about the advice Mithrandir had gave him. He had chosen to follow his instinct, which led him to Lain, despite of his reason. He knew that the bound between them was unnatural and uncontrolled, it made him angry, but he felt also joy and energy due to this bound. A joy he hadn’t feel for centuries. An energy he wanted not to refuse.

 

                As the ruler of his realm, he had always done what his duty dictated him to do, as he was taught by his father. To rule had a price, he knew it, and he had willingly paid it before, entrenched behind his cold behavior. But now, for a strange reason, he wanted to live something for himself. For himself alone. Without calculation or anticipation and mischievous thoughts.

 

                Except for the mischievous thoughts Lain brought to him.

                No matter how many times they would make love during the night, he couldn’t get rid of his lust for her. The thought of her nimble body, her sweet skin, the way she responded cheerfully to his sexual desires, the way she guessed his wanting, the trust she showed him when he spoke to her while he fucked her. He got hard anytime he thought of these delicious moments.

                He loved particularly to have her from behind. He liked to caress her back slowly, massaging her shoulders and kissing the nape of her neck, then removed her shirt, clang her onto his body and fondled her breasts and belly. He liked to hear her humming, her body loose in his hands, offered to his will. When he pushed a hand in her leggings he felt her wetness – his fingers lingering on her clit, softly, smoothly, until she moaned and shivered – he then hushed her with his kisses, nipping her neck and licking her shoulder skin. She twisted her head to be kissed, but he usually made her wait. And when he finally got her mouth, she was so hungry for his tongue that she was the one who engulfed him. Her kiss was lecherous and hot, he sometimes thought he was kissing her sex. Except her sex had another taste.

                Then he would remove his clothes, swiftly, while she’d strip hastily, still her back turned to him. Sometimes she waited for him to decide if he would have her standing or laying on the bed, but sometimes she simply laid, face down on the table, her ass offered to his shaft. The sight of her bottom, round and soft and greedy for him made him want to have her hard. But he would take his time, caress her neck and back, licking and biting her, his tongue would go along her cleft, he would feel her trembling under his touch, he would refuse to slide a finger in her, making her moaning, desiring him.

Her legs slightly opened, barely enough to let him penetrate her, her sex would be tight and wet, and so ready for him. He would mutter salacious details about what he would do to her, and she’d groan in acceptance, but he wanted her to speak clearly. He wouldn’t fuck her until she spoke clearly.

                She delighted in this game, and she then told him what she wanted him to do to her, how she wanted him to penetrate her slightly first, which was a torture cause she wanted him so badly, but he would take her deep, roughly, without warning, and she would cry with pleasure and surprise. Then he would play with her wanting, being slow, soft, then rough and harsh, and she would pleasure her clit while he would fuck her deep and hard and they would come, almost together, crying loud. He still caressed her during her speaking, making her panting.

                When she would stop talking, he’d penetrate her, hard and deep, and would thrust into her wildly, his hands grabbing her hips and pulling her onto his shaft. She would cry of delight and try to put her hand between her legs but he’d stop her.

-          Let me do that. His voice honey in her ear.

                His hand would slide under her and pleasure her clit while he would thrust into her, so deep now. He’d lay on her, moaning in her neck as she would scream of pleasure, and finally he would explode in her, coming in deep thrusts while she would be shaken by the last jolts of her own ecstasy.

He had never known a pleasure so mutual and spontaneous before her. Never.

 

                Thranduil suddenly got up from his desk and left the room without any word to the elf who was noted his instructions a moment before. The young elf sighed and looked outside. He felt that he could have to wait a long time until his lord came back to finish this task. He had never seen his lord so troubled before this… guest came to live with him. Never.

                And he was not the only one to worry. One began to talk.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to do my best to update with something interesting, but I'm running out of time ! Anyway, here we are with something soft... ( meaning without smut, sorry ^^)

                One began to talk more openly about the Lord of the Woodland Realm and his new infatuation. It was hoped to be a passing fancy but the fact that this fancy was a female human was of course very questionable, and, more important, the fact that the King didn’t hide his relationship with this human was absolutely outrageous.

                Elves were not supposed to exhibit their relationships openly, even less if these relationships involved an inferior race as human. Maybe if the human was from a noble and old lineage, intended for a great destiny - which was obviously not the case of this petite creature with weird, short and tousled hair – it could be tolerated. But not welcomed. Elves could be very snob, indeed.

                Elves were supposed to marry, bind deeply with another elf, and live forever with this bond. Through life and death. Souls united, they were destined to live a long and peaceful life, sometimes favored with a child, if the valar were good enough to bless them. Elvish love was beyond carnal human love. Passion, attraction, sensuality were of secondary importance, the bond was much deeper than that. Even if elvish love could sometimes be very ardent and destructive. It was told of lovers who had destroyed their souls with a too much burning passion though. A very old story, almost a legend, which was mentioned but never told entirely, looking more like a dreadful story to calm down young lovers ardors.

                Elves should be courteous and respectful of the civilized conventions.

                As there were allowed times for them to dissolute in sensual drunkenness and carnal love, elves were supposed to live quietly, discreetly, with dignity. The season night-feasts were their breathing time, where specific infusions and wines would be served to the guests, freeing the senses and the minds, freeing the bodies to explore sensuality, giving their hearts a wonderful feeling of satisfaction and peace after a long and libertine night.

                These nights of freedom were the reason why extra-marital relationships would be an absolute scandal, and why single elves should be secret in having love affairs.

                Rules should be respected.

                The Lord of the Woodland Realm had had some love stories, short ones though, known by very few, and tolerated because he had been a widower for so long now, because he had been very discreet, and because he was the king. But now, as Thranduil acted like a fool, disrespectful and unconcerned about his people and the rules, one became angry and resentful about him and his human.

 

 

                                                                                              ***

 

                The members of the High Counsel were especially concerned about their Lord, as he had already cancelled two sessions of work with them, and it seemed that he wouldn’t appear once again. A full hour had passed and the topic of current discussion has ended in the counsel room. The elves were now looking at each other while already exchanging commonplace talks, trying to guess who would be the first to broad the subject.

                Lady Elgenthiel was eager to tell aloud what the others thought, but she guessed Lord Celenaor should be the one to talk first, as she once had been a pretender to be Thranduil’s queen, should he have wished to marry again. She had been very discreet about it but, as usual, everything was known sooner or later in this realm, and she didn’t want her words to be misjudged. She sighed and had a deep look, green and calculating eyes in her long face, on Lord Celenaor to push him. He had to talk now or the High Counsellor would dismiss them all.

                The tall and elegant elf on her side cleared his throat and half stand to require the attention of the assembly. Voices faded quickly and the six pairs of eyes turned to him as he sat back. The tension in the room was almost palpable, and at least two others elves looked relieved that one of them decided to talk.

-          Honorable members of the Counsel, began Lord Celenaor, I think we should now consider a discussion about our King.

                His eyes went all over the table and stared at every member as to know what was in their minds. Most of them remained impassive, but fidgeting fingers betrayed both Alwyniel and Pelethir. Lord Melenor, the elder, frowned at him and stiffened on his chair. He and Lady Ithilwenn would probably be reluctant to criticize or disapprove Thranduil openly, but four of the members would be enough for beginning what he has in mind, and two more would be easy to gain. The elders would follow, at the end. He nodded and smiled to Lady Elgenthiel, and started to talk.

 

 

                                                                                              ***

 

                Totally unaware of what the Honorable Members of his High Counsel were about to discuss, Thranduil peacefully rode in his beloved forest, Lain not far behind him, her own horse following quietly the path of the big stallion the elf was on. She didn’t know well to ride, but she wasn’t scared of the big animals at all, and she often leaned to caress and whispered things in the velvety ear of her mount. The elf had smiled when he had seen her do so, and he had thought once again that her spontaneous behavior was the most refreshing thing he had been given to think about for a very long time.

                A few weeks had passed since her first episode of fever, and she was quite all right now, despite the fact that fever came back from time to time. The pattern was always the same. First she had dreams, then she drew feverishly without awaken, and finally fell back half asleep, shivering, cold and burning the same time, sometimes stammering incoherent words, as the fever devastated her. On the advice of the healer, she now always carried the herbs to treat her and help her to regain trength.

                Thranduil and she didn’t talk much about this issue of her. There wasn’t much to be said. He took care of her when she was ill, and she did her best to recover as quickly as possible. He was kind to her, attentive to her needs, worry to feel her so weak, and when she finally got better, his mood lighten immediately.

                The drawings she performed, always astounding with realistic details, were always about her now, but meant nothing to her, except that she recognized some places as places she had once seen. She put them away in a folder, like some more pieces of a puzzle she didn’t want to try to solve. What could be the point to that? The past was the past, and only now was of interest.

 

                Having left the escort not very far, Thranduil dismounted his horse and turned to Lain. She was lying on the collar of her mount, eyes closed, smiling genuinely as her hands caressed the soft skin of the quiet mare. Her dark green tunic and black leggings fitted her lithe shape perfectly, and she had removed and knotted her coat behind the saddle. She looked pleased, like a child hiding in the mane of the horse.

                The mare halted meekly near the tall elf, and he waited for Lain to realize she had stopped.

                After a few seconds, she opened her eyes, grinned at him mischievously and slid on the floor. She caressed the big head of the mare to thank her, and looked around.

-          Where are we? She asked.

-          One of my favorite places. The heart of Greenwood the Great.

-          Greenwood? She raised one eyebrow.

-          The old name of this realm. Before it becomes Mirkwood. He answered with a weary tone. Long ago now. Come.

                The elf held out his hand to her.

 

                His tall figure was wearing one of his long coat, black and dark silver embroidery, his long legs hugged tightly in grey pants and black boots. No cloak, as the weather was warm, and the two swords he was accustomed to use for fighting. His long silver blond hair, held by a silver circlet lace, spread a soft light around his head. Lain smiled when the piercing grey eyes turned to her and followed him through brushes and trees.

                She discovered a small place, not exactly a clearing, not exactly a bank, enlighten by the zenithal sun, with round mossy rocks from where she could hear water whisperings. She hopped lightly to the rocks and leaned to see the spring appear from the rocks and fade between other ones below. She tasted the icy water, almost falling from her roost, and got her head wet while doing so. She laughed and turned to see Thranduil, half a smile on his thin lips, watching her with bright eyes.

-          I love this place! She said, grinning. And the water is so good, you should drink.

-          I’m not thirsty. His voice serene and soft.

                He sat under one of the mossy rock, let his head lay on it and closed his eyes, his hands buried in the grass. Lain looked at him silently, guessing he was uniting with the nature all around them, feeling his breathing in harmony with the breathing of the trees. She jumped softly on the ground and laid down on his side, face down. She could sense his heart and the heart of the forest pounding together, even and eternal. She closed her eyes, and opened her mind to the huge sensation of life that surrounded her, almost dizzy.

                Thranduil felt the energy of his forest through his soul, and it was like it cleaned him. He felt reborn each time he connected with his forest, and felt also that he could slow the darkness spreading along it, if not cure it. He suddenly felt more energy than usually, and the power running through Greenwood and him was really defeating the dark spirit viciously crawling from the far south. He could feel some parts of the woods lighten, recovering colors and brightness, and the air purify. His heart rejoiced and lifted up as he recognized this new energy as Lain’s. Of course she could connect to his forest. She was a fae, she was supposed to have this kind of power. And she had, indeed.

                His fingers buried deeper in the soil and he let the flow of energy ran wildly into him, swirling in and around him, sweeping him along with strength, in pure ecstasy. He could let him go and fade away in this wonderful and terrifying flood, and forget about this life and its sorrows.

-          Thranduil, come back now. He heard a voice deep in his head but refused to listen to it.

-          Thranduil! Don’t go further! Lain was screaming in his head. Or in his ears? But she was so far away, and he preferred to let go peacefully.

                A strong hand held his heart savagely and pull it from the flood he was fading in, and it felt like he was dragged, heavy and drowned, so laboriously, and it hurt deeply as his lungs filled with thick air.

                He cried out and opened his eyes suddenly, panting and sweating. Panicked, he looked around him and saw Lain, eyes wide open, kneeled on his side, her hands in front of him, but not touching him.

-          You were too far! Why did you go so far? She was whispering and staring at him sternly.

He frowned and deep breathed without answering. He had nothing to answer. He didn’t know what happened exactly. He hadn’t felt something so huge before. Never.

-          You could have faded away. Added the young woman. She stiffened as his look went haunted. Is it what you wanted?

                The elf brushed his face with his hands and rose up with a scornful look. He leaned to the spring and took some water to refresh his face and mouth, then stood very straight and deep breathed. Lain’s eyes were following his every movements but she kept silent.

                Oh yes he could have drowned willingly in the flood they had shared. In fact, he would have welcomed it greatly. It was such a delicious sensation, to be one with this incredible and powerful energy.

                Lain stood up and came closer to him.

-          It would have been a huge mistake. She said as she exactly knew his thoughts.

                His grey eyes darted to her and he straightened proudly.

-          Well, I didn’t fade away! He finally answered wearily. Thanks to you, apparently.

                She nodded and hesitated to talk further. He noticed her hesitation and sighed.

-          Why would it be a mistake anyway? He muttered. I am so old I could vanish and nothing would change.

-          You’re wrong. This forest needs you, clearly. It needs you to repel the darkness and heal when the day will come. Pretty soon, I would say.

                Thranduil frowned and stared at her.

-          How can you know such a thing?

-          I don’t know. That’s what I understood, what I felt from the deep connection that was ours. And I know you felt it too. You were there, powerful, huge and strong!

                Her eyes were bright, her voice warm and alive. So alive, he thought. He stroked her cheek with his thumb.

-          You have a great power, Lain.

                She shrugged and brushed her hair, embarrassed.

-          I don’t think so. She mumbled. It was just easy to hear the forest through you. You are the one with the power.

-          You have the life in you. That’s your power.

                He took her chin softly and stared at her with warm eyes. Her hair was longer now, hiding part of her dark eyes, and he pushed it delicately. She smiled at him.

-          You have life also, but you don’t know how to feel it, that’s all. But… She paused.

-          But you can help me, right? He said.

                She grinned as his slender hands caressed her face and neck. She shuddered at his touch. He had soft and delicate touching that aroused her deeply. He buried his fingers in her hair, she hummed and closed her eyes. He leaned and brushed her lips very slowly, parted them with the tip of his tongue. He nipped her upper lip gently, slid his tongue slowly into her mouth, her own tongue welcoming him. He then lifted her swiftly - she tied her hands around his neck and her legs around his waist – and they sank in a greedy kiss.


	17. Chapter 17

 

-          Make love to me now! Lain whispered in his ear when they broke the kiss. Her hands entangled in his hair, she caressed the nape oh his neck, delighting in the smoothness of his skin.

                The elf chuckled and looked at her. He crooked an eyebrow.

-          Here? He shook his head slightly.

                She smiled at him mischievously, but her look was deeply serious. She kissed his forehead, then put feather light kisses on his cheeks, his nose, his chin, before brushing his lips slowly.

-          Right here… She breathed in his mouth. Right now.

                Her lips stroked his lips, softly but confident. She sucked his bottom lip, and, taking advantage of his mouth ajar, glided her tongue for an arousal kiss. Thranduil hummed in her mouth, letting his body relaxed and answered freely to her demand. He thought briefly of the guards, a few paces from them, but pushed the idea aside when her hands ran down his back to stroke his bottom.

She really had a talent for persuading him. He rubbed his arousal on her and growled as she sucked his tongue like it was his shaft.

                He pinned her against the mossy rock and his hands stroked her body, feeling her squirm under hit touch. She laid on the rock, her legs still tied around his waist, her neck offered, and he leaned over her, licking the skin of her neck, then her throat, and kissing the top of her cleavage. He unbuttoned her tunic swiftly, opened it wide, and brushed his lips over her skin before sucking her breasts lasciviously. He felt the nipples harden under his tongue and bit them lightly, delighted to hear the moans of pleasure it provoked. Lain squirmed and buried her hands in his hair. He came back to her mouth and engulfed her in a fiery kiss, all tongue and teeth, until they went out of breath.

                He paused to look at her. He reveled at her sight, pink cheeky face and bright dark eyes full of lust. She was panting while his fingers teased her nipples. His eyes darkened and he continued to play with her, watching her responding body twist and wiggle under his hands. When he slid his hand in her leggings, she tensed and arched, and his fingers found her wet and greedy for his touch. He grinned at her.

-          Watch me! He ordered softly. She opened her eyes and her heart beat faster. His look was clouded with lust, his smile predatory. He leaned over and inserted two fingers in her wetness, muffling her moan in a lecherous kiss.

                She was fully aroused and ready for more than just fingers, and she rubbed her clitoris against his wrist, eager to be pleasured.

-          Ssshhhh. He whispered, pinning her against the rock, pulling her head back to fully possess her mouth, but pending his kiss and his stroke.

                He stared at her, a small smirk on his lips. Her eyes burnt with desire, her mouth were wet and parted, demanding for more, but he didn’t move until she stopped squirming. He nodded to her, and smiled.

-          There. He said, softly stroking her inner sex with his long fingers. His thumb brushed her clitoris and she shook. Look at you, fairy girl.

                She jerked again under his nimble touch, moaning in his kissing mouth. He really delighted to see her, trusting him completely, opened to his touch and will. He chuckled softly and thrust her again, looking in her clouded eyes.

                He wanted her naked, now, panting and naked, ready to have him, her back in the soil, her legs on his shoulders, and he would bury him in her and come with her screaming with pleasure.

                Removing his hand from her, he raised and put her back on her feet, took out her tunic, then kneeled to undress her legs and feet. He traced a path of kisses along her legs, lingering on her thighs, avoiding her aroused sex to go to her navel, his slender hands stroking her buttocks and back. He sank in her neck, biting and licking the soft skin just under her ear, intoxicated with her scent. She sighed, delighted, and asked softly.

-          Will I undress you now, my Lord elf?

                He nodded and groaned and bit deeper in her neck. He liked when she called him that way, he liked to hear her shaded voice when she waited for him to possess her, or she to possess him. He liked to feel her naked and nimble in his arms, her petite frame clung to his muscular body. He loosened his embrace reluctantly.

                Her fingers brightly undo the buttons and laces to undo his coat, removed it with his shirt, and unbuckled the belt of his pants. Her hands stroked his hard length through the fabric and she gazed at him provocatively. Then, with a smirk on her lips, she made him sit on the grass, removed his boots and pants, contemplating his glorious body, smiling at the sight of his arousal. He leaned, hands in his back, and spread his slender legs.

                Kneeling between them, she caressed his bent legs from the ankles to his muscular thighs, putting some delicate kisses all along, first one, then the other. She brushed his arousal with the tip of her tongue, and she looked at his beautiful face. His lips parted, his eyes half closed on her, he was the true image of desire, and he gapped when she engulfed him in her mouth.

                Hot and greedy, her tongue eager to please him, she sucked him until the moans escaping his mouth went louder enough to satisfy her. Then she raised and kissed him feverishly, entwining his tongue with hers in a carnal embrace. His hands came to hold her by the waist and pulled her on his broad chest. When they broke the kiss, panting, she moved back, enough to handle his shaft and brush it on her pubis, then her wet inner thigh. She felt him shake and harden even more, his hands tightening her waist reflexively.

-          Allow me. She said then. She untied his hands softly and indicated him to lean back as previously.

                He obeyed and smiled when he saw her turn her back to him and made him stretch his legs. She straddled him and positioned the head of his shaft at her opening, and in a soft move, engulfed him in her wetness. She reveled in the sensation of fullness it gave her and delighted with the sound of the elf’s growl. She paused, adjusting to his thickness deep in her.

-          I thought you asked me to make love to you? His voice was low and smooth.

                She moaned when he straightened and clang his stomach to her back.

-          Please, do. She whispered.

                She felt his hands grabbed her hips and moved her on him, making her groan louder.

-          Exquisite… He panted, enjoying her tightness and the sight of his shaft thrusting between her cheeks.

                She leaned a little over his legs, her hands on his thighs, allowing him to take her in another angle, and his thrusts quickened. He lifted her lightly and pulled her deep on him, watching at her so beautifully welcoming ass. Her back arched when he stroked her, twisting her around him. He groaned, bent his legs and opened them a little more to spread her owns wider. She moaned and jerked as he bumped in her deepness.

                He held her tight, and slowly moved his hips to feel her deep from the inside, looking for her reaction, waiting for her moans. When she didn’t give him the screams he wanted, he pulled her softly and make her lay on his chest. His shaft still deep in her, he pushed in a different angle and stroked her clitoris very lightly.

-          Better? He murmured.

-          Mmmm, yes! She moaned.

                She moved her hips to feel him deeper. He thrust into her again, deepening and quickening his moves as he sensed her tremble. He pinched her nipple gently, she jolted and tightened around him, taking him very close of his peak. He stroked her clitoris more roughly, and when he felt her almost come, he pinched her nipple back.

-          Come, fairy girl, come to me. He whispered.

                And then she shook and came, her inner sex tightening around him and making him come hard and loud. They cried of pleasure together. And got lost.

                They were no more in the grass, nor did they feel their bodies entwined or the sweat and smell of their orgasm.

                They were everywhere around, in the air and leaves and branches, in the soil and rocks, the birds and butterflies, the hares and the deer, in the sound of the spring very close, and the roar of the faraway fall. They were in the trees, very high in the sky, and deep in the ground, they were great and old trees of Greenwood, and the darkness of the sick ones. They were in the sickness of the forest itself, this filthy sickness crawling from the south. And they were also in the powerful and infinite life that survived and waited to be freed.

                They were everywhere in the same time, nowhere really, and the sensation was like floating in deep water, finally aware of colossal forces.

                Then it ceased suddenly and they felt their bodies back, the pleasure that flew back softly, and their breaths evenly calmed down. Closed eyes, they rested, still.

                Thranduil rolled on his side, still holding Lain in his arms, still buried in her, and cuddled up to her, his nose in her neck.

-          Lain, my fairy girl, what are you doing to me? He murmured. She shivered and hummed when she felt his breath on her skin.

-          Awaken you to your own power, my Lord.

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this looooooooong delay. Too much work, too much life. Not enough time. (Not complaining about that.). My apologies to you, dear readers. Did I ever tell you how grateful I am that you read this weird tale? Thank you!  
> We're approaching the end of this story. Hoping to find the words.

 

                Many days had passed since the first “awakening”. Weeks really.

                Lain and Thranduil had now the daily routine to ride through the Woodland Realm with a small escort, randomly halting anywhere they wished, and make love and connect to the deepest forces of the forest. Awakening them, moving them, feeling them. Forces that slept for so long that elvish magic had almost forgotten its presence. The life of the forest they knew and celebrate, yes, but this power, antique and infinite, was unsuspected and incredible. Sleeping forces couldn’t fight against dark forces. But awakened forces would.

 

               Sometimes they made love, truly, with sensuality and lust and care for each other. Caresses, murmurs, sweet words and languish looks, deep kisses and deeper strokes.

                And sometimes they fucked. Savagely, roughly, violently. Bruises and blood and cries. And pleasure. Always.

                The truth was they didn’t need to make love to connect to the forest anymore. But the pleasure it brought them was increased by the forest echoing it through its deepest roots, and the delightful ecstasy it gave them was unique. A sweet agony they wouldn’t refuse at any price.

                Not only were they deeply addict of each other, but they also were addict of the power it freed through their senses.

 

                Of course, Thranduil had had a special connection to his forest from the first day he came to live here, but he realized now that he had neglected to sustain this connection as the years flew by. He knew that without Lain, he would certainly have lost his ability. His realm was dying, and he has let it die. As he has let himself die slowly, shutting himself to the world.

 

                Until Lain.

                Until this incredible fairy girl he fancied had given him his own power back, as she had told him. Taking the life and power inside him, making them his tools to be, his tools to play, making him awaken his realm, readying it for the day the war would begin, slowing already the advance of the darkness. She had turned him into the Elf he used to be, not only the legend of what he was long ago. The Elvenking, feared for his ill temper and bad behavior, was reborn as the Lord he really was. Strong, proud and impetuous, but also alive and brilliant. Powerful.

                In fact, his life wasn’t a burden since she was in. The colors brighter, the light more dazzling, the music merrier, his senses as if a fog had been removed from them. He felt more alive than he had ever felt for centuries, and thought again on staying longer on this earth, rather than departing to Valinor.

                His son was alive, somewhere, and he would make things better with him one day.

 

                                                                                              ***

 

-          My Lord! hailed an intendant once the riders had passed the gates and dismounted in the great hall.

Thranduil held the reins out to one of the stable boys and turned to the elf, waiting for him to speak.

-          Someone has arrived a few hours ago. A lady… He hesitated. She desires to see you … and your guest also.

The tall elf frowned and stiffened, puzzled by the strange behavior of his attendant.

-          Who is she? He asked coldly, secretly hoping it wouldn’t be Galadriel. The Lady of Lorien had a propensity to meddle with others matters, arguing she and the elder elves were all guardians of the Middle Earth’s balance, and as she was gifted with her second sight, it was hard to refuse her to interfere. He had always found it unnerving.

The fact that she and Elrond of Rivendell had recently written to him some cryptic but concerned messages about his unusual behavior they had heard of had a lot to do with his present suspiciousness and annoyance.

-          A Fae, my Lord. The intendant whispered. He had a quick look at his lord’s face, anxious to see anger in his steel eyes, then his eyes jumped to Lain who gaped behind Thranduil.

Her eyes widened and she shivered involuntarily. The hand of Thranduil found hers without a move of his head, aware of her discomfort, and squeezed it softly.

-          Where is she? Asked the Lord Elf. His voice soft and cold.

-          I made her wait in a guest room, near the great reception hall. The voice of the intendant made clear that he was waiting for approval from his Lord, and as this one nodded, he bowed once more.

-          Let her know I will see her before dinner. Ordered Thranduil, and he walked away with Lain at his side.

                Her hand gripped him tightly, and he could feel her body tensed and apprehensive. Her stomach was knotted and she was breathing with difficulty. He looked at her briefly and saw her face blank and wide eyed. He continued to walk silently, she following his pace without complaining, but refusing to return any of his inquisitive looks.

                The glances on them were thoughtful and curious as they went through the corridors and stairs of the palace, but none dared to linger on them as they crossed their path.

 

                Thranduil closed the doors softly and turned to Lain. She stood in the middle of his study, stiff and pale, grasping for air. A quick move and he took her face in his hands, scrutinizing her eyes. Dark and empty.

-          What is it, Lain? What’s happening?

She didn’t move and didn’t even seem to hear him, to feel him, to know him.

-          Lain! Answer me! Watch me! His voice growled as he felt her skin so cold under his touch. Talk to me!

His eyes pierced suddenly the fog she was in and his voice made her flinch. She took a deep breath and her body began to shake.

-          I’m scared. And cold. I’m so cold!

She clung to the tall elf, trembling. He wrapped her in his arms, stroked her hair softly, then guided her to the low armchair near the window, where the sun would light and warm her. He sat her smoothly, brought a soft fabric on her shoulders, and tried to comfort her with soft words.

-          You’re all right, Lain, I’m here. Don’t be scared. You’re safe.

She shook her head slowly, her eyes deep and wide.

-          No I’m not. Not anymore. She’s here now!

He frowned.

-          Who is she?

-          How did she know I was here? How did she find me when I don’t even know my true name? She continued, shakily.

The elf studied her face once more, as if trying to read the answers she couldn’t articulate, then he kissed her, opening her lips with his tongue, invading her mouth slowly, melting into her softness until he felt her relax in his embrace, finally out of breath. He looked at her, kissed her softly, brushed her nose with his nose, caressed her cheeks with his numbs and whispered some elvish words.

She opened her eyes. They were full of tears.

-          She found me and will want me to do things now.

Her tears followed her cheeks to her mouth, where he licked them softly. His thumb brushed her lips and he bowed.

-          I won’t let anyone make you do things you don’t want, Lain. I won’t let anyone approach you if you don’t want to. You hear me?

Her deep eyes hung on his almost desperately and she bravely nodded.

-          I hear you, Thranduil. But I’m scared anyway. There’s only one person that scares me like that in the whole world. It’s her.

His hands pulled her on his broad chest, where he stroked her lithe body with light touch.

-          Who do you think she is, Lain? Tell me.

He felt her stiffen, hold her breath, then finally sigh weakly.

-          My mother.

 


End file.
